I close my eyes, and the same nightmare begins. Seven nights a week, I try my best to picture beautiful scenery and lush surroundings. Instead all I see is grim, dead wood and cold, sharp as nails ice. The kind of ice that would go through you like a hot knife through butter. I open my mouth to scream praying that I wake myself up, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Just eerie silence as my tears turn to ice.