No. I was in my bedroom, at home. It was quite dark-not yet dawn, it seemed. My bed felt soft and weirdly smooth beneath me since I was expecting the crunchy edges of leaves and twigs. Blinking, I looked around. It had been a dream.

My heart was still racing. In the strange half-light of my bedroom I could still see the hawk above me, still see the glint of its razor- sharp claws as it grabbed the fish. I pushed my damp hair off my face and reassured myself that none of that was real, that everything in my room was just as I had left it the night before. Of course it was. It had just been a dream, that's all. An incredibly realistic, visceral, strong dream.

Slowly I lay back down and flipped my pillow over to the cooler side. I lay blinking up at my ceiling, then glanced at my clock. 5:27. I never wake up that early. It was Saturday. No school. I could go back to sleep for hours if I wanted to. I tried to calm down, but I still felt anxious and headachy. I closed my eyes and deliberately relaxed, willing myself to release all tension and enter into a light meditation. Very quietly I whispered, "Everything is fine and bright. Day must follow every night. My power keeps me safe from harm. The Goddess holds me In her arms."

It was a simple soothing spell, something to help me banish the leftover weirdness from my dream. It hadn't been a nightmare, exactly-not all of it. But strange, with some frightening parts that I could hardly remember anymore.

When I opened my eyes again, I felt better, calmer. All the same, I wasn't able to fall back asleep. Instead, I lay on my bed and watched as my room slowly filled with the ever-brightening pink glow of dawn. By six it was definitely light out, and I heard birds chattering and the sounds of the occasional car going by our house. Though my eyes drifted shut, I didn't sleep until I heard my parents get up around seven-thirty. The sounds of them going downstairs, talking softly, the rush of water as Mom filled the coffeemaker-it was the lullaby that finally eased me back to sleep. I had no more dreams and didn't reawaken for another two hours. I heard my younger sister, Mary K., turning on the shower in the bathroom we shared, and I smiled as she started singing a song that had been all over the radio lately.