Will this cloudy hell-hole ever clear?

As I further awaken, I notice that the cocoon holding me is made of a soft, spongy material. My aural senses hone in on what sounds like endlessly howling wind. As soon as I process the new information about my holding chamber, I am hit with a tidal wave of realization. I recall exactly where I lie, why I lie here, and how I came to be in my present predicament. I am not lying in my bed at home, as I had come to imagine mid-sleep. I recall that I am in a sleeping bag. I am in a sleeping bag in Alaska, surrounded by brutal weather, in the midst of a life-changing journey.

With my new wealth of knowledge at hand, I awkwardly reach behind my head in an attempt to search for the mischievous bag-zipper. With a great deal of effort, I find and grasp the small black piece of metal and attempt to free myself from my entrapment. As I struggle with the poorly-constructed zipper mechanism a thought flashes through my mind. What if I can’t free myself this time? All oxygen would quickly become carbon-dioxide. I would quickly suffer an unfortunate death. Deprived of oxygen, my brain would slip into a bout of insanity as I breathe my last breath. The ever-present violent weather would quickly return my body to its earthly origins. I’m still struggling with the zipper.

Finally, I unzip an opening large enough for my hand and wrist to fit through. The cold weather menacingly blows between my fingers. Now I’m safe from death by oxygen deprivation. I chuckle nervously about my needless worry, and wonder why my mind works the way it does. Am I crazy? I decide that if I’m crazy, then everyone else must be crazy, too.

Now I have my right arm free up to my shoulder and begin to reposition myself to provide a greater range of motion. Soon I’ll have my head exposed. Once repositioned, I strongly grab the zipper and give a massive tug. Light fills my previously dark world, temporarily blinding me; cold, windy weather envelopes my body. Leaving my cocoon has left me exposed to the elements, and I become aware that I must quickly locate my clothes and cover my unprotected flesh.

Frantically, I reach down into the bottom of my sleeping bag to grab my clothes for the day ahead of me. I had placed them there the night before so that they would be warmed by body heat throughout the night. Awkwardly, I wiggle around as I attempt to dress from the confines of my sleeping. A warm embrace caresses me with each dirty layer. I’m effectively playing a game of fisticuffs with the Alaskan weather. Finally, I am clothed, warm, awake, and mentally ready to venture forth from my sleeping bag cocoon. I crawl out of my sleeping bag to find my surroundings brilliantly illuminated by gold and yellow; a product of light passing through the tent’s rain cover. To my left, my tent mate lies dormant. He is not yet prepared for the daily metamorphosis. To my right, I notice my boots and raingear are dry despite heavy rains heard during the night.