2. [Write about a recurring dream you've had.]
theatrical_muse :: Write about a recurring dream you've had. (Or, if you've never had one, write about the most vivid dream you can remember.)
I’ve been having a dream about potions lately. I’m not certain as to why, but the dream simply won’t cease. I suppose someone with the nonsensical faith in such things as divination would assume that the dream means something - that all the details are perhaps symbolic with metaphorical insight to the inner workings of my soul. I, however, find such things to be absolute rubbish, but the dream is interesting, to say the least.
The dream starts in the dungeons at Hogwarts. I’m running down the steps, and it makes a lot of noise with the echoes and all. But, I run into the potions classroom, and there’s one cauldron that appears to be overflowing. This cauldron, naturally, is mine, as it happens to be sitting on my usual workstation. But, there are no other cauldrons or students about. I’ve also apparently been working on something as my satchel and textbooks are neatly stacked, as usual. The Advanced Potions text lies open next to the cauldron, and it’s the first thing I grab as I certainly don’t want a potion overflow to ruin a perfectly good textbook!
Well, once I’ve gotten my hands on the textbook, I glance at the open page only to discover that I must be brewing the Amortenia potion. I look over to the cauldron and see the mother-of-pearl cast to the liquid and the steam is rising in spirals. But, it’s starting to spill, and I certainly don’t want to get detention by making a mess of the potions classroom! I move my school things out of the way, and I reach for as many vials as I can find to try to contain the potion. But, once I get close enough to the cauldron to inhale the fumes, the dream takes a decidedly strange turn.
It feels as if something has reached out and pulled me down into the cauldron, through the shiny liquid and through huge spirals of steam that sort of look like cotton candy. Then, all at once, I’m standing in the middle of a field of grass that’s just been mowed. It smells absolutely delightful, and it’s the most vibrant shade of green that you can possibly imagine. It’s fantastic, really! I could stay there forever and be quite content, except that I’d want some parchment and quills perhaps to write on. Oh, but then it changes! I’m in a store of some sort - a bit like Flourish and Botts, but it’s strictly paper, and everything smells precisely like new parchment. It’s intoxicating - it’s just as wonderful as the first time you open a textbook and the scent hits you. Then I find myself wishing for something, though I’m still unsure as to what.
Yes, just as quickly as it happened, I get pulled back through the pearl-colored liquid and spiraled puffs of steam, and I land back in the potions classroom. I look back and the cauldron is completely empty. The textbook is lying on the floor, still open to the page about how to brew a proper Amortenia potion, but there’s handwriting across the page which I find morally offensive since textbook ought to be treated with the utmost respect! But, the neat penmanship across the spell instructions reads, “It’ll be our secret.” I distinctly remember feeling quite warm, and I assume that my cheeks must be a furious shade of pink.
But, that is where the dream ends. It’s rather strange, but it’s got a few brilliant, beautiful moments, so as far as dreams go it’s a nice one. I’m not sure if there’s any point to it, as dreams are merely a result of rapid eye movement, but that’s the one that my subconscious has had on repeat as of late. I’d love to discuss thoughts on the matter, but if you try to sell on me some notion of how the dream is overall a metaphor with deep insight, then please save it because I’ll think of it as nothing more than rubbish!
I’ve been having a dream about potions lately. I’m not certain as to why, but the dream simply won’t cease. I suppose someone with the nonsensical faith in such things as divination would assume that the dream means something - that all the details are perhaps symbolic with metaphorical insight to the inner workings of my soul. I, however, find such things to be absolute rubbish, but the dream is interesting, to say the least.
The dream starts in the dungeons at Hogwarts. I’m running down the steps, and it makes a lot of noise with the echoes and all. But, I run into the potions classroom, and there’s one cauldron that appears to be overflowing. This cauldron, naturally, is mine, as it happens to be sitting on my usual workstation. But, there are no other cauldrons or students about. I’ve also apparently been working on something as my satchel and textbooks are neatly stacked, as usual. The Advanced Potions text lies open next to the cauldron, and it’s the first thing I grab as I certainly don’t want a potion overflow to ruin a perfectly good textbook!
Well, once I’ve gotten my hands on the textbook, I glance at the open page only to discover that I must be brewing the Amortenia potion. I look over to the cauldron and see the mother-of-pearl cast to the liquid and the steam is rising in spirals. But, it’s starting to spill, and I certainly don’t want to get detention by making a mess of the potions classroom! I move my school things out of the way, and I reach for as many vials as I can find to try to contain the potion. But, once I get close enough to the cauldron to inhale the fumes, the dream takes a decidedly strange turn.
It feels as if something has reached out and pulled me down into the cauldron, through the shiny liquid and through huge spirals of steam that sort of look like cotton candy. Then, all at once, I’m standing in the middle of a field of grass that’s just been mowed. It smells absolutely delightful, and it’s the most vibrant shade of green that you can possibly imagine. It’s fantastic, really! I could stay there forever and be quite content, except that I’d want some parchment and quills perhaps to write on. Oh, but then it changes! I’m in a store of some sort - a bit like Flourish and Botts, but it’s strictly paper, and everything smells precisely like new parchment. It’s intoxicating - it’s just as wonderful as the first time you open a textbook and the scent hits you. Then I find myself wishing for something, though I’m still unsure as to what.
Yes, just as quickly as it happened, I get pulled back through the pearl-colored liquid and spiraled puffs of steam, and I land back in the potions classroom. I look back and the cauldron is completely empty. The textbook is lying on the floor, still open to the page about how to brew a proper Amortenia potion, but there’s handwriting across the page which I find morally offensive since textbook ought to be treated with the utmost respect! But, the neat penmanship across the spell instructions reads, “It’ll be our secret.” I distinctly remember feeling quite warm, and I assume that my cheeks must be a furious shade of pink.
But, that is where the dream ends. It’s rather strange, but it’s got a few brilliant, beautiful moments, so as far as dreams go it’s a nice one. I’m not sure if there’s any point to it, as dreams are merely a result of rapid eye movement, but that’s the one that my subconscious has had on repeat as of late. I’d love to discuss thoughts on the matter, but if you try to sell on me some notion of how the dream is overall a metaphor with deep insight, then please save it because I’ll think of it as nothing more than rubbish!