I'm supposed to tell you a story. But, instead of telling you one of my stories, perhaps I'll share something about these actors I've gotten to know at Green Bluff Creative Academy. Did you hear they were doing a great big production called Island of Shalamar? Well, I went to Opening Night and the other three shows, and let me tell you, it was one fantastical production. Shem did great. I mean, his voice sounded kingly and everything. And Debz— Wow! She looked fabulous. Like a real queen. She even walked regal. They convinced me I was catching a glimpse of life in the royal palace of Shalamar. Now, Shalamar is my kind of place, because I love writing medieval stories myself. But if I were writing this tale, I would have included a white horse. He'd swoop through the air and save the day. But that's just me. I like fantasies about taming dragons and capturing bad guys, and beautiful white horses. You see, I've been writing a book about . . . well, I said I wasn't going to tell you about that. Not today.
So, I had this dream. I know, a dream is just a dream, right? Have you ever had one of those dreams that seems totally real? Scary real? That was me. I dreamed, or I think I dreamed, about going back into the past on a time machine Professor Plunkmeyer built and left under the stage at Green Bluff Academy. In the dream, I hid in the time cart under a big coat so the professor wouldn't see me. I heard Shem and TJ went back in time—and were lost. And because I loooove history, I wanted to try it too. But do you know what I do when I spin around on a crazy death-defying spinning ride? I do this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Now, in the dream, Shem and TJ were crazy surprised to see me in York, England. All I wanted to do was look at everything and draw as much as I could so I'd never forget. But when I woke up back in my bed, I was disappointed. Only a dream? Sigh. But when I got to school and talked to Shem and TJ...we all wondered . . . could it be real? Or was it a dream of all dreams like we'd never forget?
More on that later . . .