As Bea laid on her bed, trying to summon the energy to take pictures of all of her possible outfits for the evening and send them to Yvette, she could not help but think how much better – or easier – things would be to just fall asleep.  After all, everything was so simple in her dreams.  She thankfully did not have to worry about what to wear; she didn’t have to worry about classes or homework or embarrassingly awkward social situations: the stage had already been set for her; Bea only had to walk across the dreamscape.  

But this is not a play, Bea reminded herself and then paused, curious.  How did she know if her dreams were real or not?  Just because she never had a dream that vivid or extreme before?  But the thought that it could be real (was she a time traveler?  Or just crazy?) terrified her: she’d think of that later.

Like an actress, she didn’t like being on stage without a script…but this was far worse.  She didn’t know the plot, the background, the main characters, the setting: what if she made a mistake in that world?  And…could she make mistakes?

Stop this, Bea, she chided herself at once.  It was no good thinking too hard on her dreams…no matter how much she thought about them, she wouldn’t get any answers.  But it was too tempting to think about.  Almost against her wishes (why was her heart beating so fast?  Fear?  Or something better… a tenderness she knew well but couldn’t explain), her musings turned towards the man.  She could not help it – he was too perfect.

The man whom she had met in her dreams already liked her: she didn’t have to get dressed up for him, didn’t have to ask him out on a date, didn’t have to worry if she was making a fool out of herself in front of him or if his friends would like her.  He already liked her and, after this morning at school, it was appealing to awaken in a relationship that was already deeply established.

Then she thought, I don’t even know his name.  Is that going to be a problem?

Suddenly, Bea sat up.  Once again, she had drifted off, daydreaming.  You gotta get a grip on yourself, Bea. Yvette was right: she couldn’t spend all her time fantasizing about her dreams…she still had a life in the real world.  Getting up quickly before the desire to close her eyes became too much for her to bear, Bea searched for her camera.  I still have a chance with Ben, she reminded herself while taking photos of her current outfit.  He’s real…he’s nice…

She uploaded the pictures onto her computer and sent them to Yvette before opening up a new browser.  

…he is someone I can introduce to my parents…

Feeling courageous and daring, she typed in a search engine and went straight for the image search.

…he is someone who hasn’t been dead for two hundred years…

Her eyes softened when she clicked on the first image: an illustration – a very good illustration, blessingly attractive – of a redcoat soldier.

… but he isn’t anything like the man of my dreams…