Cold and Frozen While I Sleep

I awoke from a nightmare, shivering. My window was open and my blankets were blown away from the cold, snowy wind. I got out of my bed with my cold feet against the ground. I felt nothing. “The ground is made of marble, it should be cold.” I thought to myself. I walked to the window and placed my fingers along the metal sill. I felt nothing. Frantic, I ran out of my home running along the ground with snow up to my knees. I still felt no cold. I ran to the pond, thick and frozen. I leaped on the ice and still, my feet were not cold. I grabbed a rock and broke the ice with it. I then leaped into the cold, icy water. It was not cold; it was lukewarm, like a bath. I climbed out of the pond and ran back to my home with my feet deep in the snow and the icy wind against my back. My mind was racing. “What is wrong with me?!” I swung the door open and rushed over to the stove. I turned it on and placed my hands on the iron. I felt no pain. Confused as to why I could feel nothing, I ran back to my room and went to my bed. My body froze when I reached my bed. Lying there, a helpless and cold, lips as blue as the sky, and skin as white as snow, was me. I was dead. I stood there and began to cry. “Why had I died?” I asked myself. But there was no turning back now, I am dead. I left my room crying and upset, and walked outside. There in the sky was an opening to the Summerland, a place where good souls go. The leaves of summer fell upon me and a lush green vine carried me up to the clouds. I looked down at the dead place I called my home. The dead place where my body now lays cold, frozen, and asleep.