Stuck in the nineteenth century

    Last night I dreamed that I walked to the nineteenth century. Apparently there was an admission charge. But then I walked a ways on a paved, though not very well-paved, road. At some point, I noticed that I was next to the sea and that clipper ships in great numbers were going by in both directions. So maybe it was the eighteenth century. I didn't get to enjoy much tourism there, whatever century it was, but I was able somehow to return and get my stuff and my cat. But then I was back here again and worried about my cat, lost in time.
    The rest of the night, whatever I would dream, I was impatient with the dream because I wanted to get back to the first dream and rescue my cat. The other dreams were pretty interesting, too, though the only one I remember is one where a good friend from high school was charged with some serious crime. In real life, his only crime is not participating in Facebook. I never did succeed at getting back to the nineteenth century, though since the actual cat was lying across my legs it's a fair bet that my not-quite-sleeping mind knew that everything was all right. There was never anything like a nightmare level of alarm; just a slight annoyance. I have asked Amelia what the nineteenth century was like, but she just gives me a look like, "What?"