Go stand at the glass window and look outside. Look till you no longer see the glass, or hear the clock, or feel the warmth. Till you can see the dance of a snowflake, hear the song on the wind and feel the flood coming on in white mists. Let the gusts toss the flakes onto your face, so you can hear each little one strike the glass. Go to them and listen, listen till you no longer hear them, then be startled awake by the soft sound of your reading glasses that just hit the pane. But still, watch them. Watch them twirl and glide… and fly and swoop and sit down amongst that crystal dream. Do you want to walk out or step in? Oh, who could have laid out that pristine carpet for you? Who is that master of your dream? Is it God? Or is it you?

What was it that you were reading again? You have a glassy look in the eye. Did you just dream through a glass? That one piece of glass…? Or two? Or three? No silly, it wasn't your eye, your glasses or the pane, it was the millions out there that you could see! Millions and millions of mirrors they were…

Doesn't matter dearie, you're back again.

A/N: One of my reviewers asked me what was in the mirrors. What it meant. So I thought I'll add an explanation as an author's note. I was actually lost in nostalgia when I wrote this. There was no single thought, it was a flood of thoughts on my life, my past and future, the person I am now, all that is within... it's kind of hard to explain. In the end, it's about waking up from a dream in the sense that you wake up inside, stop having illusions about life.