It is cold. I am lying, not on a mattress, but under a bed. I am lying in a fetal position with my chin at a hypotenetic angle to the single window in the room. The stairway is directly across from the window and is uncarpeted. I am lightly clothed. I am alone. There are two bunkbeds in the room. There are no other furnishings.
They are birch trees. They are white and piebald, with beautiful bark that is flaking in some spots and firm in others. The sun shines through the treetops and gives ample light to allow me to travel quickly through the forest.
The path is feathered with snow and is easily traveled. I am climbing to a higher altitude, and find the path is clearer as I ascend. I find no other human tracks, but a variety of animal prints, some of which I cannot identify.
The water is trickling from a rocky precipice. In some spots it is like looking into a mirror. In others, it is clear and I am able to see to the other side. It appears to be a stream, but the erosion that is surrounding the water creates numerous lesser banks. The water is icy cold. The water feels like cold silk against my fingers.
It is made from birch bark. It is lined with a sap-like substance that disallows leakage. There are no handles.It is too large for my small hands, but easily held between them both. It does not leak. There is a symbol scratched in the side. I am unable to decipher what the symbol may mean.
It is a skeleton key. It unlocks a room.