Jim lies in his bed; his eyes close and in the darkness, he is carried into the land of dreams. His bedroom grows icy and clouds with frost. Crystalline curtains drape his windows. His floor sprouts a carpet of thick, plush snow. The night metronome of the crickets slows to a funereal tempo as the temperature plummets.
Wrapped tight inside his blanket of dreams, Jim shivers.
Out of the earth, up through the floor, dust rises. It clings together, forming a translucent woman. She is brown as earth. Her face is worn. Her eyes are shadows in the night. Dots of red paint mark each cheek and each ear. Her hair is made of darkness, the part decorated by a circle of crimson. Her head is encircled by a glowing circlet of deer skin and feathers. Her deep scarlet skirt is swirling with silvery co
