conuly

I was randomly building a train set in the (cramped, tiny) White House when my mom called me over to sit in the bath with Evangeline. Obama's kids walked in on us and were *totally* unconcerned, but, in the manner of dreams, I started a new one with no transition whatsoever. I found myself in my sister's real life bedroom (possibly still in the White House) holding two bricks which may have come from the wooden train set. Jenn was inching closer to me (somehow, her room - while looking the same as always - was a lot larger than in real life) and trying to get them, but I was sure something was really weird. Just as I smacked myself on the head to think she turned into Voldemort. I was quite obliging and voluntarily (no torture or Imperius or anything) gave up some useful information (no idea what) to her. Then I did.

It was right when I had to talk to an irritable Severus Snape that I remembered I didn't like Harry's death scene in book 7 and had no intention of reliving it (the other day I actually forgot for a minute that that book had come out already. The feeling of anticipation for something good was pure bliss, I tell you) and woke up.