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I'm in the dark, laying on my bed. I hear the phone ringing and grumble about it, trying to fall back asleep. I toss and turn a little, but nothing do. I get up without bothering with the light and get out of my bedroom into the corridor. I stumble pass the furnitures and into the entrance and take the key to the mailbox before getting out. The cold seize me, and I think that I souldn't have go out wrearing only my pajama. The front of the garden is very diffrent, with a hedge rather than a fence and proper lawn rather that gravel The house in front of mine is still the same thought. I still go to get the mail; the mailbox is cream rather that green, and rather beated up. Inside there's two small packages and an handfull of flyers. I chuck the flyers into the outside bin and get back in. It's still very dark, and I feel heavy and tired. I drop the packages on the kitchen table and head back to bed.

Then I woke up, and started to list all the points where I should have snapped into lucidity. One of the obvious one being that I'm in my student flat.Dammit. And it was, of course, three in the morning.

I'm in a ginormous wooden cabin, with a very open floor plan, and all of my family, plus guests. We're preparing a birthday party, for my sister I think. It's a very sunny day, and beams of light stream from the bay windows, one of them open into a glittering snow covered garden. It's pretty hot inside despite that; there's lit fireplace all around. We'ere obviously doing the finishing touchs for the party: tables are dressed with white cloth, and there are garlands on the mezzanine. Half of the people are already in their classy clothes, my sister rocking a snazzy golden dress that enhance her natural tan. My mother and her briefly fuss about her hair and she run away to fix something. I'm here out of duty, and help putting food and beverages around, already dolled up. The friends and family I keep crossing paths with seem very happy to see me here and keep telling me that I should be all dressed up more often. It's a little overhelming and I run back to the kitchen insteand of answering them. My mother boyfriend is here, not ready for the party at all in a t-shirt and short. He looks like he just stepped out of the shower and wandered in. In his usual blunt manner, he point out that I finally look pretty in that dress and makeup.* Starting to feel fed up, I walk out of the kitchen to the back of the house, which is more calm. I climb some stairs and sit on the landing of the second floor, pulling on the hem of the dress. It's a a nice burgundy with black ribbons and a little frill, and the heels I'm wearing match well. The second floor is almost in the dark, with only a fireplace in the back and a little sun shining around the closed curtains. I can barely hear the sound of the party here, it's rather peaceful. Someone come from the first floor, stopping a dozen stairs under me and looking up. It's the dark haired man I already saw before, striking green eyes looking at me with a hint of concern. He's wearing a tuxedo, and has a champagn flute in his hand; it seem that the party has started.

*Yes, he is that blunt. It's not malicious on his part, but it can be jarring. It's true that without any makeup I look like a mix between a rather ripe zombie and a creepy porcelain doll, but I would rather sleep in the morning that make my face. And I can't find fondation that is light enough to match my skintone anyway.