Working through old issues of Genesis (my high school's quarterly magazine), I came across some shocking news: Elaine de la Cruz had died. Elaine was my year. She was editor of the school newspaper, had a weird sense of humor, and had a ridiculously long commute, since her family had moved to Danville.

I saw her name in the obituary section, and I could not believe my eyes. Her car had flipped over or something, she was driving cross-country. She is survived by her parents and her siblings, the notice says.

That night, I had a dream. Elaine and I are chatting away about the notice in Genesis. "I know, everybody thinks I died," she says. "It was all a big mistake," she tells me. "It was actually my parents who died in a car accident, and the editor got the news but somehow mixed it up. Everybody's been calling and asking about it," she says. I am sorry to hear about her parents.

I wake up, and it takes me a while to figure out it was just a dream. I feel freshly disappointed.