“I don’t know what to say,” I muttered with a shrug.

“Don’t be shy around me. You know I’m jealous. I don’t think you’re crazy—just tell me! How many dreams have you had here?” She leaned forward.

I took a deep breath. “Here’s how it started.” I told her about my embarrassing fall my first night at Seven Sisters and about Muncie.

She broke in, “Well, that’s it! That’s how you got the bruises.”

“Shh…” I looked around, embarrassed. “That’s not it. Besides, that’s the wrong foot—and there’s more.” Her eyes widened as I told her what I saw in my second dream; about the soft-voiced Calpurnia, the handsome yet suspicious Captain Garrett and of course, the cruel, larger-than-life Jeremiah Cottonwood. I was not surprised to see Mia pull a small notebook out of her purse and jot down some notes as I talked. When it was all over, she looked at me with her mouth open.

“Carrie Jo, this is amazing. All of this is simply amazing. Are you okay, though?” She paused, looking at me carefully, “Are you really sure you are okay? We could call Dr. O’Neal,” she finished in a whisper.

“I’m perfectly fine. I just can’t believe this is happening. These dreams are different than the ones I’ve had before. I can actually feel what she feels, what he feels. I know what they’re thinking. I could smell the wisteria, taste the lemonade and see the clouds sailing by. I know it really does sound, well, crazy but it’s like I’m them.” My voice shook, but I was determined not to burst into tears in the middle of the Golden Egg.

Mia didn’t say anything—she just watched me. Finally, she leaned back against the cracked vinyl seat and tilted her head. “Do you know how lucky you are? What I wouldn’t give to experience just a few minutes of seeing the past, of being there? I love the past. I love history. You are a real dream catcher. The real thing, and you don’t even see it.”

I looked at my plate that I had barely touched, surprised at the scolding. The over-easy egg had congealed; the once creamy grits were stiff and unmovable. I felt a shift in the air. The uneasy “invisible” moved around me, and I shivered. I stared back at my friend and said, “Lucky? Is that what you think?”

I could feel her anger rising. “I just mean you have something that other people wish they had. It’s not a curse, CJ. It’s a gift,” she said matter-of-factly and leaned forward to touch my hand. I couldn’t help but pull away.

“Pardon me if I don’t share your perspective. Where have you been the past ten years, Mia? You of all people know how weird I am, how different. You would really want to live like this? Afraid to lay your head down and close your eyes in a strange place?” I felt aggravated and a little mean. “I don’t think you’d be doing much couch-surfing.”