Slice of Life 3

Theres always something wonderful about waking up to snow, especially on break. A silence that seems to blanket the world and everyone in it- slowing everyone down so that it is as though no one else exists. You wake up slow, often only for a brief moment to roll over, the crimson curtains casting that familiar rose colored hue across the entire room as the morning light shines through. its as though the world has no worries, nothing that needs doing. The silence is addicting. Often you just lay, soaking in the light and the quiet, staring up at the ceiling; your mind drifting randomly. And if asked about it later, you wouldn't remember what you thought about; if you thought anything at all. Maybe small moments and flashes, but those quiet moments in the morning would seem like a dream. For it seems  impossible for moments like that to be filled with so much peace.

The light is still red; that is what you think as you lay there. For how long have you sat, completely still in this waking dream. Time seems fluid, unknowable and for the time being, completely irrelevant, it could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, maybe even more. And still, it seems impossible to sit up. But finally after what seems like hours or minutes of mental struggle you do. Feet chilled by the wood floor, you make your way over to those red curtains. The ones that make the real world so far away. Catching fistfuls of the rough fabric, you tear them away. Casting the room in a fiery glow as you wonder about the blanketed landscape. Ice melt drips right outside your window. Perhaps the dream is not over quite yet...