But no, no one is there, it was a dream, yes it was a dream… or was it. My body is tingling, think, come on think, think what happened… aahhmm, I ...emember. The wind, the wind was blowing, yes it was the wind, gently, so softly, that it felt like a hand moving across my cheek, brushing my hair away from my face. It was the wind that moved across my nightgown, causing it to brush my body, caressing me in gentle waves. I can still feel the coolness of the fabric against my skin. I can still feel. FitzWilliam's ninth-grade English class. Mrs. FitzWilliam was a kindly-looking gray-haired lady, probably in her late 50's. Since I wasn't yet in the ninth grade, I'd never had her as a teacher, but I knew her by sight. Her class was quite full: about twenty-five students. As I entered the classroom, everyone looked around at me in surprise -- an expression that changed to blank concentration as I sent out my commands to them.It only took a couple of minutes to complete. I sighed and wiped my. More

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