Going up?
No, I am not.
Why not?
Just taking the stairs, is all.
Any particular reason, she asks with mild alarm.
No, it’s nothing, really.
No, please tell me.
Well, since you asked. I had a very realistic dream this morning that my friends Danielle and Evan were with me in an elevator in China. We got in, pressed the button for the 15th floor, and waited. Some Chinese people were in the elevator with us. One woman pushed the button for the 40th floor. Instead of stopping on our floor, the elevator continued up to the 40th floor. When it got there, the doors didn’t open. Suddenly, the elevator began falling. Everyone began screaming, inlcuding Evan, who was yelling "Oh God no," etc. We all got on the floor. I was on my stomach, Evan was on his side and Danielle was on her back. We all held hands. I prayed. I knew, from her silence, that Danielle was praying too. I was mostly OK with dying, but I held onto the tiny hope that we’d be saved, somewhere in the back of my mind. The elevator continued to plunge. Why wouldn’t it hit bottom? I think I finally convinced myself that since we weren’t dead yet, this couldn’t be real. I awoke abruptly. The clock said 5:55.
OK…You’re not getting in because of a dream you had?
See you up there.