I wake...and from bed a chill overtakes me... the rustling of the trees... the dancing of the drapes... The wind...

I sit there for a moment... as bumps cover my arms... my lips turn cold...

My feet touch the ground... it sparks a memory... a dream... a mixture of both... As cold as marble but as familiar as a friend... Its the routine...

I make my way to the window to shut it... The crackling of the wood as it falls shut... I stand there... gazing on the world beyond... An illusion...

Silence now... no rustling of trees... no wind... but the cold lingers... The bumps on my arms... the proof...