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“What?” Rose’s deepening frown made me wonder if she weren’t thinking that I was the one not making sense. She might think all this really was a dream, but her dream, in the sleep she seemed so scared of.

“I don’t think you’re asleep, no,” I clarified, without adding, “because you’re part of my dream.”

“Hmmm.” Rose sucked in her lips, making a flat line of her mouth. “Did you try the key over there?” She pointed.

“It’s too small for…” But I looked anyway and found myself staring at a small curtain obscuring part of the wall. A curtain about a foot long and nine inches wide and brushing the floor. I was certain it couldn’t have been there before. Almost certain.

We went over together and discovered a small door behind the curtain. The tiny key fitted it, after some fumbling, and the door opened onto some sunlit space. Rose lay down at the same time as I did, in order to see through the doorway. Although I really was interested in the view, I also couldn’t help notice how close Rose’s cheek was to mine or how her hair tickled at my neck. All of which made me feel like a bit of a creep—but that’s how it was. Millions of years of evolution had shaped me to care how close she was.

I had, of course, read enough to know that I was acting exactly as my age dictated. But that knowledge didn’t mean I could help following the dictates of my nature.

“It’s beautiful,” Rose breathed.

“Uh huh.” I held my breath. The miniature garden and the house, just beyond arm’s reach by the look of it, were indeed pretty. Like an English country cottage in the summertime. The idyllic sort. It wasn’t what occupied my attention though.

“Still…” Rose whispered—whispering seemed the right thing to do when we were so close together, and also staring at a place where a shout from either of us might fell trees—“Still, it’s not a lot of use to anyone much bigger than a rabbit. And, actually, the last rabbit I saw most certainly couldn’t get through there.”

A rattling noise turned us both back toward the glass table.

“Those definitely weren’t there before,” I said, eyeing the two small stoppered bottles that stood side by side.

“No,” Rose agreed.

Both bottles sported paper labels. The one on the left vibrated and grew from about two inches tall to about three.

Rose approached the table. “This one says ‘drink me,’ and this one,” she indicated the larger of the two bottles, “says ‘wake up.’ ”

Rose reached for the larger bottle. “I do need to wake up…”

I came to join her. “Me too.”

Rose picked it up. “Or you’ll sleep forever and rot in a poppy field?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But I think I may have concussion…” I wasn’t sure I really wanted to leave though. Dream or not, it was far more interesting than my real life, which wasn’t offering much more than a bollocking from the Togetherness staff.

The bottle buzzed again, and Rose dropped it with a cry of surprise. Somehow, I caught it a foot off the floor. Sure hands are not normally my thing. More proof I was dreaming.

“It tickled,” Rose apologized.

“It’s bigger now.” I held it up. And it was. By a good fifty percent. The rounded rectangular bottle with ridged sides now filled my hand. It looked rather like an old-fashioned medicine bottle. Greenish glass leaving the color of the contents a mystery.

“Well.” Rose pouted in concentration. “If it keeps growing then there’s going to be plenty for both of us.”

I was about to compliment her on a good idea when I noticed that the label, which had grown as well, bore additional small print that had become just about legible after the most recent growth spurt. “It says here ‘single dose.’ ”

“It feels like this place is making up the rules as it goes,” Rose complained.

The bottle vibrated again, and I nearly dropped it. It was now almost the size of a can of Coke. “Drinking all of it is going to get pretty difficult if it gets much bigger!”

“You should do it now then,” Rose said, picking up the other bottle. The one whose label only said “drink me.”

Guilt prompted me to ask, “What about the poppies?” I held the bottle out to her.

Rose pushed it back at me, and then we were both scrabbling for it together as it nearly shook out of my hands, practically doubling in size.

“Quick, before it gets any bigger!” she insisted. “I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming. I escaped the poppies. Pretty sure.”

“No, you take it.” My chivalry might have kicked in belatedly, but it kicked in hard.