Awakening?

I feel a change. My prison, cold and dark always, seems less... cold. It is a slight change for sure. But there seems a warmth. As of a body. At first, I imagined I felt a rumble, as of the foretelling of a great storm. The brief smell of ozone, as after a whip crack of lighting. Then it was gone, and in it's place, this odd warmth. Life, maybe? Surely, it is a dream, in this place of frigid eternity. No breeze, no stir, just the endless gaze of his eyes across the plane, unmoving. Neither breath, nor blink, nor twitch. And curious. Of all things to now stare back at me. A raven. So surely this must be a dream. Must be her cruel torment. It has to be.