As I ate, I thought back to the reason I woke up, the dream. It felt so real, as if I had actually been there. All of a sudden, an idea emerged. Could I have seen the future? Is that possible? Is the president to be assassinated tonight…by my date? These questions seemed impossible, but what if I had seen the future and…and…a murder was to take place upon this evening?

“‘What’s the chance of that?” I thought. I left the kitchen and went to get dressed. I peeked into my closet. It contained few outfits, and only one a dress. I slipped it on and made sure that I was ready.

I sat back down in my kitchen and waited for him to come. Remembering the dream, I walked into my living room and grabbed my revolver from the mantel. It was smooth and had a grip made of wood. My papa had given it to me as a gift for protection. I slipped it under my dress. Walking back to the kitchen, I waited.

I did not need to wait long, for I heard a gentle knock on the door. I opened it slowly and stepped out. My shoes clicked on the stone path.

“Shall we?” he asked graciously, extending his arm.

I quickly took hold and we started down the path to Ford’s Theatre. As we walked in silence, I took in the sights around me. The cobblestone streets were beautiful, uneven, and natural. The houses were brick, standing tall above us.

As we approached Ford’s Theater, the crowd thickened. Everyone from the young and the old, the rich and the poor had come to watch the play and see the president. Everyone loved Lincoln. He was truthful, respectful and smart.

The doors slid camly past my vision as I found my seat. I sat down and got ready for the show.

I wriggled uncomfortably in my seat, anxious for the play to start, before my mind began a show of its own. Some of my thoughts were outrageous, not possible as far as I was concerned…but as the play progressed, I realized that I was in for a surprise like none other. I noticed Booth becoming restless, and murmuring to himself as if he was going through some sort of plan.

Soon, he excused himself, saying he needed to check the horses. He slowly got up and stared each onlooker down. I studied his movements, how he tried not to be obvious or attract any attention. I became suspicious and decided to follow him. Once he had achieved a respectable head start, I slid out of my seat and crept along the shady corridors, closing in on his location. I made sure to keep my distance, though, for my own protection.

I remembered my revolver and slid my hand over its sleek form. Its smooth handle felt slick underneath my hand. The gun gave me a feeling of protection, safety, a kind of invincibility. I continued walking behind him, trying to keep out of earshot and his sight.

All of a sudden he made a quick turn and followed a stairway of tightly spaced stairs. I tried to keep my feet from being too heavy on the steps. And then I saw it…a shiny revolver sticking out of his nicely tailored tailcoat. It hit me just then…I had seen the future…this man, my date, was here to assassinate the president.