I blink back to process what had been said. Then I sputter.

"Pfft-f-for fock's sake, that's not what I meant! I just fell asleep, and next thing I know my flat's a wreck and London's a mire. How else would I've thought when I find myself sat down before you? I'm not trying to be cheeky here either!"

I ruffle my hair in exasperation, but turn my head away sharply to hide my embarrassment, and ramble on mainly to myself as my thoughts churn further.

"Let's see, I woke up to my alarm this morning, fixed breakfast while no one else was using the stove, met no one as I left my flat, crossed campus to my microeconomics class, had that...wait..."

It strikes me, a faint clue in a murky, interrelated web. This dense fog, this chill I now discern sinking into my bones, and a head of long strawberry blonde hair sharpening into focus as I peek back at Gloria's face, I've experienced in retrospect. But was that not a dream...?

I slowly turn back and utter my question, "...Have you dreamed of a ship at sea, in fog as thick as this?"

[@Landaus Five-One]