The knocking woke me with a start. For a brief moment, I held my eyes shut; it was a knocking, not a rumble. I let my hand feel around me, couch, joggers, askew glasses biting into the bridge of my nose. My eyes flew open to confirm, I was home, back in my time, and back in my city.

"Sadie, open the door!" Stina demanded as she pounded again.

I ripped open the door to quiet her before the neighbors started to complain.

She looked me up and down and let out a "wow, just wow. That must have been some wallow."

"You have no idea," I muttered as she breezed by me. "I had the craziest dream last night."

"Mmhmm, and I would love to hear it after you shower."

Stina's cleaning compulsion took over as she picked up spilled popcorn and folded my living room blanket.

"Fine," I sighed, fearing I would lose the vivid memory of William Shakespeare and jolly ol' London as I continue to shake the grogginess of sleep from me. "If you wrap up in here, I've been meaning to clean out the fridge," I shot over my shoulder. I didn't need to turn around to know she was shooting me a look.

As I showered, I let my mind work through my dream in vivid detail. I was shocked at how lucid my mind was to the memories. I didn't even recall knowing that much about Shakespeare's London. Maybe I didn't know that much, perhaps dresses held together by pins were an outcrop of my glasses poking into me, maybe cold fish at breakfast was my own personal nightmare from a spicy burrito, and possibly William Shakespeare's playful appearance was to contradict my anger towards him the night before. I chuckled to myself at how far my mind had run, almost as wild as a crazed lion attacking at a child's christening.

"How's the fridge coming?" I asked as I returned to the living room.

"Very funny," Stina shot with an eye roll.

"You get so hangry the morning after you drink," I teased.

"Well, I wouldn't be hangry if you had been ready when I got here."

"Fair, let's go before you explode."

Once Stina had a plate of diner eggs in front of her, she was much better company.

"What is it about greasy, cheesy food that makes me so happy after a night of drinking?"

"I think your body is just happy that you are ingesting something that is not booze."

Stina ignored me and focused on her bacon instead. "Okay," she started between bites, "tell me about this crazy dream."

"It was so weird. I fell asleep watching Romeo and Juliet..."

"Ew," Stina interrupted, "that story is so sickly sweet. I swear every time they live happily ever after, I wish death upon them both."

"You only think that now. I recall someone swooning in high school. Besides, every adult grows out of Romeo and Juliet. Honestly, I feel like the whole thing would have been so much better if Romeo died in a duel or something." In my small sampling of the world, this was an agreed-upon fact. "Anyway, in my dream, I woke up in Shakespeare's London!"

"Really?" Stina let out a laugh at how ridiculous it was.

"Yeah, except my stupid brain didn't put me at some fancy ball. No, I was stuck in some boarding house eating cold fish and wandering into some shabby rented room where Shakespeare was staying. As if Shakespeare would be renting a room in London."

"Um, did you pay attention in high school at all? He did stay in rented rooms. And I think cold fish was a standard breakfast protein."

"Huh, I guess my brain remembered more than I thought. I also had to pin my clothes together, like pin the tail on the donkey, and don't even get me started on my glasses. Oh, and all of London smelled like poo."

"First, gross we are eating, and second also all true. It's not like they had great plumbing."

The accuracy of my dream started to make me feel unsettled. "I can't believe all this was stored in my brain," I muttered to myself. "I mean, you are an English teacher; I get why you remember this, but for me, it was almost ten years ago!"

I found myself poking at my food as my mind plunged into my vivid dream. It had to be a dream. I was here in the morning in New York, having brunch in the same old diner with my best friend. There was no other explanation.

"Hey, was there ever a royal family that had a lion at their Christening?" I asked weakly.

"What like Prince William?"

"No, like back then; when Shakespeare was around?"

"Oh yeah, I think there was something about that. People were crazy back then. I think he snuck it into one of the plays. It's the one with Puck... geez, don't tell my students that I forgot the name..."

"A Midsummer Night's Dream," I finished for her.

"Yeah, remember at the beginning, the courtiers are afraid of a lion. People suspect it was because of some crazy royal family wanting a lion at some party. It's how they date the play."

I didn't know that. I was confident that I did not know that. I could feel the blood drain from my head as the room spun a bit. It had to have been a dream. But how could my mind conjure information that it never knew? I didn't know about the lion; I didn't know about the cold fish; I didn't know about the lively twinkle in young Shakespeare's eye.

"Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good?"

"Yeah, I think the burrito from last night isn't settling well," I stammered.

"Maybe we should get you home to bed. I really don't want to watch you hurl. You know how that goes; if you blow, I blow."

"Can you please not talk about puke while I am trying not to vomit?"

"Sorry," Stina tried unsuccessfully to stifle her laugh. "You go get some air, and I will pay."

I stepped out of the stifling diner to the sidewalk outside. The busy city whirled around me; the cars, bicycles, people walking dogs. It was all very present, and yet, half my mind was somewhere else. Part of my mind was still clinging to my dream.

"Ready?" Stina asked tentatively from beside me.

"Yes," I nodded absently.

We walked to my place in silence. I could feel it weighing on Stina as she pondered how sick I was. Knowing her, she was probably worried her shoes might be in the splash zone. Had the roles been reversed, I know that is where my head would be. I longed for my head to be worried about a ruined pair of shoes and not cranking through the best way to pin the sleeve of a stiff dress.

"Okay," Stina said as she set a cup of tea on the coffee table beside me. "You get some rest. I'll call you later to make sure you are alive."

"Thanks," I managed as I pulled the blanket up around me and nestled into the cushions of the couch.

"And no more Shakespeare movies. Clearly, his happily ever afters don't do great things for you."

"Fair," I managed before letting my heavy eyelids fall shut.