While I was writing the first draft of "Shakespeare Rising," I had the flu and a high fever. Also a cough; so I slept down the hall in the spare bedroom, to spare my husband the risk of contagion and also to help him get a good night's sleep. While I was sleeping there, I woke repeatedly, partly to cough, but partly because of my dreams.
In one dream Shakespeare came to me and told me things. What things? I have no idea. I was hallucinating, my fever was so high. Even if I hadn't been ill, I doubt very much I would remember the contents of a dream unless I woke myself up to write down the details. But I definitely came away with the sense that I had been visited and had a friendly connection with my esteemed friend Will. Oddly enough, this feeling persisted while I was writing that play.