The eighteenth day of August The year remains unknown I woke in my bed –my childhood bed once again and quickly made my way through the doorway intent on speaking with this man who had invaded my imaginary room. He was there, of course, feeding the dog a piece of biscuit as if we had left off exactly where I had recalled from the previous day –as if I had not woken from my bed a moment ago. He smiled and nodded, just as before. The chair was pulled away from the table, just as before. Outside it was snowing. Hard. I sat. A warm cup of tea rested in front of me. I felt obligated to sip what had been prepared and lifted the warmed mug as the steam made its way to my nostrils. My God, how intoxicating. My head spun once more and I recall nothing after.