I dreamt the winter was snowy and very cold in the old days. My best friend and I discovered the large pond at the bottom of the abandoned clay mine was frozen solid. We took turns on an old metal runner and wood sleigh dashing down the rim of the pit onto the pond, and it was a swift and long ride. When we got tired, we made a sail out of an old sheet and sailed around the pond. We then got our ice skates and returned to skate until darkness approached. The chill at that moment was getting inside our marrow, and we debated whether to go home. We simultaneously gazed at the old pump house shack and noticed a metal chimney reaching up for the sky. We skated over to the door and were delighted it was not locked. We went inside.
Out of the winter wind, it felt better instantly. We immediately spied the amal pot-belly stove in the middle of the room—benches on either side and a table against a small window. There was a pile of kindling and some larger pieces of wood for the stove. We found a yellow newspaper torn two pages from it, made a crumpled ball, and put it inside the stove. We put some kindling on top of the paper and truck a wooden match from a jar on the table next to a kerosene lamp. Soon, the stove had a warming blaze, so we placed more significant pieces of wood inside, sat on the benches, and relished the new warmth in the shack.
Smoke swirled outside the window, and we warmed ourselves, especially our hands and feet. The pleasant aroma of the wood fire and the warmth were enjoyable. The sun was setting, so we lit the lamp and rested.
I woke up in my warm bed, but the room was cold, and the sun had not yet risen. All was dark.
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