I was sure that Taylor Swift was not around at the same time as William Shakespeare. So, when my ears filled with Love Story, I knew I was home. However, this time I was filled with something other than relief. Although his insistence on his magical love-always-wins ending grated on me, I was beginning to enjoy hearing the story of Romeo and Juliet from Shakespeare himself.

"Hello," I answered with a sigh.

"Still not feeling well?" Stina's voice came more worried than I expected.

"No, I feel fine. I just had another Shakespeare dream, and," I paused embarrassed at the admission, "I'm a little bummed I woke up. I was trying to convince him that the families of Verona should not just be fighting, but the whole damn city should be at war!" I felt myself perk up as I relived the conversation.

"Sadie, what are you talking about? Of course, the whole city was fighting? I mean, the whole first act is a major street brawl across all levels of society."

"No, it's not; it's just a stupid pissing match between a few teens."

"Didn't you just watch this movie? How have you forgotten so much of the plot?"

I had just watched the movie, and I remembered the annoying fight between overindulged children. Didn't I?

"I don't think I am feeling as well as I thought. I think I am going to lay down again. Thanks for checking on me," my voice was distant. I barely even thought of my excuse; it just fell from my lips as my mind worked through what I knew of Romeo and Juliet.

"Well, call me if you need anything. I will call back after dinner to make sure you are okay." Stina's voice was filled with worry, but I was too distracted to hear it.

I let my phone fall beside me as I brought up Romeo and Juliet again. I started it from the beginning, but it was not the garden I had recalled. There was no starry night with two young hopeful kids spying on each other for the first time. The opening scene was now a city in disarray. Everyone had a side, and deadly hate permeated the scene. It was gripping but completely different than what I had seen just a day prior.

My mind swirled at the changes. I had just watched the movie, and now the plot was shifting, adjusting to meet my tastes. Was it even possible? I was hypnotized by the story unfolding before me. Was it possible that somehow I was influencing William Shakespeare through my dreams? Were they dreams? I knew the corset had felt very real; everything had felt very real. How was this even possible?

The next scene was back to the sentimental meeting of the two lovers' eyes. Romeo immediately forgets all his woes of his family's strife and Rosalie's unrequited love as soon as he sees Juliet. Oh, Juliet, never a girl was as one-dimensional as this one. She was barely more than a prop. Of course, Romeo had a taste of love from Rosalie. But Juliet only has a Romeo. There are no other suitors for her. She should also have options. All women should have choices. This is not a one-and-done life, after all. How does she know how deep her love for Romeo is if he is the only taste she has had. What would life be like if you only tasted vanilla ice cream and never indulged in chocolate or rocky road?

I flicked off the tv and sulked back into my couch. Why didn't Juliet have any other suitors? She was from an influential family. The curse of her family's hatred was just as equal to Romeo's. So should be the benefits. She should be turning down the cream of the crop and choosing young Romeo. Without a second admirer, it just feels like settling.

I chuckled to myself at how invested I was in the life of a fictional character from hundreds of years ago as I let my mind wander to that note for Shakespeare. Would he think I was mad again? Maybe I was crazy. I was playing out conversations with William Shakespeare as though I actually had them. Still, had the story changed? Was I influencing one of the most significant plays of all time, The Bard himself?

I flicked on the movie again to let it play out in benign droll. My mind clung to Romeo's cousins accompanying him to the feast. They were so dull and expected. I, for one, would never want to go to a party with these bores. They seemed to spoil Romeo in his somber pampering. It was all too much and made my eyelids heavy once again.

It was the discomfort that struck first, but this time I was not filled with dread. I popped from my bed as the nightgown fell to my ankles and ripped through my door to meet Shakespeare's with an urgent rap.

"Miss Sadie," he feigned surprise, but his eyes betrayed him with amusement.

"Romeo needs better friends, and Juliet needs a voice," I contended as I pushed past him into his room and flopped on his bed.

"Perhaps, we should discuss this once you have dressed?" He cocked an eye to me.

"I am dressed," I shrugged, unwilling to waste time pinning together an outfit like one of Cinderella's mice.

"I must require who you are," he demanded. The humor had drained from him, replaced with a bubbling urgency.

"An apparition of your mind. Why else would I be traipsing around your room in a nightgown?" It felt like a fair enough approach. I was his own personal Puck. "Why is Romeo the only one with options?"

I ignored the exasperated sigh and pushed past him as my bare feet padded on the wooden boards of the floor before spinning and falling to the bed.

"Juliet is from a fancy family too; she should have options," I added.

"Miss Sadie, I must insist that you dress if you are to visit," but as he spoke, he shut the door to the hall.

"Oh, Billy, I am wearing more clothes than a nun."

"I should say not. I am a married man; people may talk."

"What? Because I'm covered from neck to ankle, I might be too alluring for you. Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem."

"A me problem?" The enticing twinkle of his eyes was chased away by the perplexing riddle that was me.

"Yeah, a you problem. You have enough of them with this play. Why is Juliet the waif of a girl that just falls for the first boy that professes his love for her."

"Romeo is a true and caring gentleman. Their love is fated, which is why he so eloquently professes his love of fair Juliet."

"Oh, honey, I have had more eloquent professions of love riding the subway," I grumbled.

"What is a subway?"

"Ugh, never mind. Don't you think Juliet should choose Romeo from others, not just because of one glance? Or better yet, maybe she doesn't choose Romeo at all, maybe she chooses another fancy boy. Sometimes practicality wins in love."

"Practicality wins?" Shakespeare picked up his goblet and sniffed it.

"What?" I asked as he eyed his wine suspiciously.

"I am concerned my drink has been laced. I must be unwell."

"You want this love story where Romeo and Juliet are bound to each other with one glance, but that doesn't happen. Honestly, who is so in love that they would rather die than be apart from their love? Look at you. You don't even live in the same city as your wife," I stretched out as I spoke absently. "I just think Juliet should have the same options as Romeo.

"How dare you?" His voice sliced from the room and immediately made my body jolt up from the stir. "Everything I do is in service to my family."

"Come on; I've seen Shakespeare in Love." I regretted my inability to stop my mouth from talking the moment the words left my mouth.

"What does that even mean? I am William Shakespeare, and I am very much in love with my dearest Anne and the children. She is a woman of standing who took a great chance on me. It is my duty to her and our love to support her as best as I can, even if that requires me to work in the city."

"Sorry," I mumbled childishly.

"Get out," he demanded with fire in his eyes. "Get out and stay out. I don't know who you are or why you are so invested in my work, but your assistance is neither wanted nor desired. The novelty of your impropriety has dulled."

"My impropriety? How am I improper? I am trying to help you turn your overindulgent Hallmark play into something realistic."

"You speak in riddles of subways and hallmarks. You refuse to dress properly, and you trounce around my room as though it were your own. And now you insult my wife and family. You clearly know nothing of love."

"I know nothing of love? You live in a world of happily ever after; that's not reality."

"Get out," he demanded as he pulled the door open with more force than necessary.

"Fine, write your drivel; see if I care," I stammered as I charged from the room.

I laid in my bed for hours, willing sleep to take me. I wanted to go home, to my home, to my time.