Chills and thrills of the night

Do you know the feelings you get when you step into something very
cold from somewhere
relatively warm? For instance, stepping into a cold shower, walking
into a sheet of torrential
rain, or being blown by the frigid wind as you try to close a window on
a cold wintry night.
You know that sensation of shock, the involuntary contraction of your
lungs and that desperate
gasp for air?

I had often considered these assaults to the senses as unpleasant,
though others might
argue with that, and call it invigorating. It is perhaps possible that
they can be both thrilling
and frightening at the same time. After all, I have been told that fear
and excitement are
actually the same feeling. The difference is the state of mind. And our
minds are capable
of a great deal of change.

But I wasn't thinking so much last night. I wasn't even conscious when
these contracting
sensations hit me and I woke up gasping for air. My bedroom window was
left open and
cold air was coming in. My blinds flapped with the wind, and they were
making small
slapping noises. As I recovered my breath, I snuggled back inside my
quilt and indulged
in its warmth and protection. I stared at the flapping blinds for a
while, and then I thought
that I would leave that window open. It was nice.

I fell asleep again very soon and drifted into oblivion. But those
sensations would return
throughout the night. I could not recall how many times I had waken to
find myself clutching
at the quilt and gasping for air. But the pleasure and promise of
protection, warmth and
softness that follow would lure me back time and time again. I felt
like a child teasing at its
object of fear, and my quilt was my shield. If I could only see myself,
I would have slept
with a smile on my face last night.