And the next crack!dream.

[valis2]

Yesterday it was giant snails and conchs wandering about the living room, glistening and iridescent.

This morning, however, it was another HP dream, but like no other I've had.

I was living in Russia, and I was a slender, reserved, very self-possessed witch. I was in a major city, and somehow I ran afoul of a group of Death Eater-style wizards. They were pretty ruthless, but I kept one step ahead of them. My wand was pale oak, and I kept it in my sleeve, it seemed. The first section of the dream involved me running away from them. Imagine a James Bond movie sequence--one of those breathless crazy action excerpts--and you'll know what I'm talking about. Except with magic.

The part that was most amazing to me is that spellcasting was an integral part of who I was. I was casting spells constantly. Even little things like the Unlocking Charm, which saved me at one point when four of the wizards were chasing me. Spellcasting did not seem tacked on. The wand was an extension of my hand. It was an everpresent tool that was second nature to use. When I first started writing for HP, I thought wizards and witches who grew up with a wand in hand ought to behave like it. Anyway, it was exhilarating to be able to cast spells so quickly, sometimes without verbal components, and race through abandoned buildings and jump out of windows.

Eventually even Reducto couldn't save me, and I escaped out of a window and raced across a parking lot and into a field. I was certain I was being followed. I found a small river, and jumped in, expecting the flowing waters to cover my tracks. I walked down the river for about a mile and then left the river for another field.

I walked and I walked. It was no trial, because I actually liked to walk. In fact, who I was in the dream reminds me very much of Sarah Tanner, my character from lastbloodwitch. Anyway, I found food where I could, and drank water from the ground, and used my wand to assist in both. I thought often of the three goddesses (Maiden, Mother, Crone) and prayed to the Crone often.

Eventually I came to a house. It was in the middle of a set of fields, and there was a young boy who greeted me enthusiastically. He showed me inside, where I met his father. I learned fairly quickly that the mother/wife had passed away some time ago. The father looked like Alton Brown, and kind of acted like Sam O'Neil from the Piano; he kept watching me, and eventually I realized that he had taken a fancy to me. We ate dinner together, and I thought, "This could be a place for me. I could stop running. I don't have to return to the city." I watched the boy and his father and thought, "I could love them. I could stay."

After dinner, the father was in the kitchen washing dishes, and I brought a dirty plate to him. Suddenly his entire form turned the color of grey storm clouds and began to bubble like water. He expanded, looking like tens of large marbles, and gurgled and writhed. Suddenly a voice began speaking and I realized that he was the Mother, whose favorite form was water, and who also hated me. I prayed to the Crone and fled the house. The Mother did not chase me. I think she had underestimated how long it would take to change forms.

I drove myself across the fields. I walked as quickly as I dared, though I couldn't imagine how one could keep ahead of a goddess. I crossed acres of wildflowers, hills with mossy trees, old forests with long trunks. I crossed flooded fields, where the water sat grey and murky upon the soil. I drove myself for three days and three nights, and then, when I could not take another step, I found a house ahead of me. The woman who greeted me smiled and bade me stay the night. Even though she was young, I knew it was the Crone in disguise, and I slept on a veiled bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I was lying in a field of yellow daisies. I plucked several and left them as an offering to the Crone. (Even though there was already a field of them there, the very act of separating a few and the intent of offering made all the difference.)

I crossed another field.

The dream suddenly went forward in time, and I found myself living with Russell Crowe on a farm. He, too, had a young son from a previous marriage. In fact, I ended up casting a spell upon the teenager that would block any naughty words he wanted to say--blue strings like Silly String would swarm on his face if he tried.

Then my father was there and he showed me a contraption he had built that would catch crows and sell minnows.