Lazily, almost, she fell into a deep slumber; deep enough, almost, to be without dreams. However one was inevitable.
**
Soft, cold grass beneath her feet; a night's breath tickling her neck; the lakeside glow lighting her shining hair. The trees, which whispered quietly amongst each other, ceased to make no noise. She stepped forward, oblivious to any change for the wind continued to chill her. Eventually, as a sensation of curiosity creeps up her arms, she turns. The Wind stops walking. He looks at her. She, in return, watches The Wind's gaze with wonder. Before she asks him the question, she knows the answer - he is here because she wants him to be.
Reaching out a hand, she strokes his face gently, passing through the translucence, as though he is not really there. Breathing out slightly, she watches as her breath causes The Wind to waver, followed by the adroitly of the breeze, dispersing subtly. She turns and continues her walk.
Again, her path is halted by the soft movement in the air. He returns the touch, the delicate touch of the face; her face; her hair - the red, beautiful hair, flowing liberally in abundant casades around her shoulders. His eyes raked hers capaciously, assuring her startling green ones that he is there. Once more, The Wind with the dark hair disperses. The redheaded figure does not continue her walk, however. for she chases The Wind with glowing looks. The admiration, the wonder, the longing in her eyes - the green eyes - trapses behind the glasses; the black, black hair.
**
She awakes. She understands. She follows The Wind.
