The group is dumbfounded at the sight of the woman and the warm aroma of rich coffee that fills the air.

"Is this real?" I ask. Nobody answers. I stand and walk towards the woman in the red dress. As I get closer, I see that she looks familiar- she has a kind face, perhaps I saw her from a painting?

I am 10 feet away. The children look at me and run behind the woman, as though they need protection. The woman doesn't look at me.

"Hello?" I ask her kindly, "What is your name?"

But as soon as the words leave my mouth, they all disappear- the old woman, the children, and the servant. The aroma of coffee is instantly replaced with the aroma of rain and wet grass. I hold my head, feeling dizzy, and I am turning back to our group, now ventured out from beneath the picnic canopy.

"Tell me that these things are not imagined!" I shout out to them, craving an explanation.