As I was writing the class agenda on the board, Charlotte came in and said, “Ooh! Ms. G! You were in my dream last night!” She was recording her dreams for a dream journal in her psychology class.
“Oh yeah? What happened?” I asked.
“You know Riley? Well, she and I were in Venice in a gondola, and you were our gondolier,” she explained, her eyes big with telling the story. “But,” and here she paused,”um, we were afraid that the boat was going to tip over.” Her hands mimicked the boat listing sideways.
“You should be,” I replied. “I’m a terrible gondolier! I stood on the back of the boat once for a photo and thought I’d fall in.”
“We did tip over!” she said. “Riley and I fell into the canal.”
“Oh no! Did I fall in, too?”
“No, you were fine,” Charlotte said, her hand dismissing me. “But we got all wet. And then we caught the plague!”
I still felt like I should apologize, even though it was only Charlotte’s dream. I didn’t want Charlotte to catch the plague before she ever got to experience college.
“Still,” I said, “I hope your dream comes true. I’d love to take a gondola ride with you in Venice.”