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She sat up. Where was she? And who were these two? It smelled faintly like smoke and wet dust, clay and damp earth. She felt heavy but rested, as though she had just woken up from a good, long sleep.

Then she remembered. Right. She’d needed to test her glucose and probably use her insulin pen, and she’d been searching for a bathroom to do that. Then she’d met an odd woman, Sìneag, who’d said she was a faerie and talked about time travel. Then she’d passed out.

But she didn’t feel dizzy or weak anymore. Her headache was gone, and she wasn’t thirsty or nauseated. What a relief…only, why?

These men wore medieval clothes—dirty, worn tunics, belts on their waists. The older man’s gray beard was long and ungroomed. There was one more man in the dark space around them, standing by the farther wall on some sort of a short, wooden scaffolding, frozen with a hand trowel and a rough rock in his hand. Now that she thought about it, he was rebuilding one of the walls; the mortar looked wet and there was a bucket next to him. A large, flat stone with carvings and a handprint stood nearby.

“Are ye all right, lass?” asked the older man.

“I think so, yes,” she said, feeling surprisingly fresh and awake. Where had the sluggishness and the blurred vision of hyperglycemia disappeared to?

“Where did ye come from, lass?” said the younger one, eyeing her like she was a dangerous animal.

All this was odd. Her feeling so good… These men who looked like extras in an epic fantasy movie…

Ah! She must be having one of her dreams. Like that dream with the Highlander—although she couldn’t see his face, and she could see the faces of these guys perfectly well, they did wear the same clothes. So maybe this wasn’t one of her psychic dreams.

Maybe this was one where she created whole worlds and had adventures—she had those dreams sometimes, too.

Her favorite type.

She beamed. She could relax. In these dreams, she had no diabetes, no medical bills to worry about, and no mother and sister who watched her every step. She didn’t have to be a tiny little music teacher who told her students to chase their dreams but never chased hers, who was afraid to leave town without checking that she had her pens with her.

In this dream, she could be someone else.

Even better.

She could be her true self.

Bubbles of excitement prickled her stomach. Freedom! For the duration of this dream, she’d be free. She’d live.

“Kind sir, don’t worry about me,” she said, still smiling. She patted her purse. “And my apologies for having scared you.”

She giggled. She even spoke a different language…Gaelic! How fun. That hadn’t happened before.

She rose to her feet, delighted at the onrush of energy in her body. “I have to go. There’s a whole world I need to discover outside before I wake up.”

They frowned at her, looking confused. The older man mumbled something about the actions of deranged Highland faeries, but she ignored him and hurried to the door, marveling at the lightness of her step.

Behind the door, a large space with crates, chests, and medieval weapons and armor was illuminated by several torches. She realized she hadn’t felt this delightful squeezing somewhere deep in her stomach since before she’d known she had diabetes. As she climbed the narrow stone stairs, the same ones she had taken when she had been awake, she remembered the last time she’d had this exquisite anticipation of wonder.

Her junior prom, when her dad had been alive.

Her first date ever, Jacob, came to pick her up and gave her a bouquet—first time in her life. And her dad had looked at her with tears in his eyes and kissed her on her hair, which was straightened to perfection, and whispered that she could come back home half an hour later than they’d initially agreed.

As she opened the heavy arched door, the ache of nostalgia mixed with the sunlight-like warmth in her stomach. She missed her dad so much.

She looked around what appeared to be a storage room with more crates, barrels, and sacks. It was a square room, and certainly not anything like the Eilean Donan she had stepped into when she had been awake.

Fascinating that her mind could create all this; everything looked so real. As she moved towards a tall, arched door, she could even smell hay and grain.

Outside, the sight of the massive castle around her robbed breath from her lungs. There were several timber, thatched-roof buildings and a looming wall that surrounded the perimeter. They definitely weren’t in the same Eilean Donan she had visited with her mom and sister. Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, she thought to herself, Curiouser and curiouser…

There weren’t many people here and, like the three men in the underground, all of them were dressed in medieval clothes. Warriors with bows on their backs stood on the walls. A man was cutting firewood on a stump, swinging the ax rhythmically against the wood. Even the smell was different—manure, and lake, and woodsmoke. A horse neighed somewhere, and Bryanna bit her lip in anticipation.

As she walked towards the gate down the slight slope at the top of which a tower stood, she wondered if this dream would allow her to finally fulfill one of her greatest wishes—to ride a horse.

She’d always begged her parents to let her do horseback riding, and just after she’d started a beginner course, she’d found out she had type one diabetes. That had been the end of that. Her mom had practically forbidden her from doing anything remotely dangerous. Diabetics could have all kinds of complications if there was an accident, and Mom wanted to avoid any danger.