The Legend of Graeme Macpherson

He caught my eye. He was taller than I'd dreamed.
Sounds silly when I put it into words.
Three years earlier The Macpherson and I met in a dream.
Most every night we were together.
I directed my steps towards him, afraid to blink. Would he be there when I made the trek to the opposite side of the ballroom? Maybe he just resembled...no, this really was him.
He looked around, searching for someone. Then he saw me. A throng of ceilidh celebrators separated us. I pressed my way through as his scrutiny burned across the distance.
I knew why he'd crossed through a rift in time to meet me. I could help keep the plague from killing the children and elderly in his realm.
But I had to wonder more than 300 years separate us, what about the dreams? Did we share them or were they a figment of my vivid imagination?