Until that very moment, I had been sure I was dreaming. Everything before had been so surreal, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Already the memories had begun slipping away, only to be replaced by the soft dampness of the trail on which I stood. I had heard stories of people who could control aspects of their dreams. That could never compare to the reality that clung to my skin like the cool, wet air. The trees massed around the path, looking down with stern faces upon me, the outsider. They could not stop me from being there, but I dared not even entertain thoughts of leaving the path for the dark recesses of those woods. Instead my eyes were drawn to the clouded sky ahead. It was a sign that the silent watchmen did not rule all. There was still the trail and whatever it lead to. I took my first step without looking back, a nagging feeling telling me I would only see a dimly lit wall of bark. The memories were gone as I took my second step. Nothing came with the third but the swift rhythm of a new day.