I awoke to the crisp fresh smell of chilly autumn air squeezing through a small crack around the window at the head of my bed. I snuggled into my covers and drifted in and out of sleep with memories of times from long ago playing like reruns on the edges of my dreams. Perhaps it is the chill in the air that brings forth the unction to withdraw into the secret places within my Self. Sometimes it brings with it a nostalgic melancholy that draws out thoughts of things I barely remember, yet cannot seem to totally forget.
