You wake up in the different city than the one you went to sleep in.

The story is as old as some vintage wine. I pass out in one place and wake up in another. That’s the usual version. However, the strange version is that I only had a sip of  wine. It was given to me by a weird looking man whose clothes seemed to be from a different era and his hair was as wild as the look in his eye. He grabbed me by the arm as I walked outside my office. At first he was incoherent. He didn’t make much sense. Eventually I calmed him down enough to discover he had this bottle of wine from some distant relative and I had to take it back to that relative who incidentally had the same name as mine.

That’s all I remember until this morning when I woke up in a room  familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The sound of horses outside work me up and when I looked out it was like looking at my home from a distant century. A horse drawn carriage stopped in front and a younger version of that crazy man stepped out and headed toward the house.

Linda Scott