I may be a little to submerged in children’s books these days. It the past 2 days, I’ve had two dreams about children’s books. In all honesty, I don’t dream about children’s books all that often, and never on nights consecutively. But the night before last I dreamed about Harry Potter 7. This isn’t all that shocking since we’re inundated with references to it all the time these days. I mean there’s even a knitting book on how to make Harry Potteresque stuff. And I don’t know about you, but I never felt the need to knit anyone a wand holder. But back to my dream. I don’t remember the beginning all that well because I was more asleep at the time, but Voldemort was chasing HP in the big showdown and it was making me anxious and stressing me out. So anxious, that I was starting to wake up. Since by this point I was only about 40% asleep, I decided that this dream was not working. I decided to change it. In my not quite conscious mind, I decided that all of Dumbledore’s comments on love being Harry’s greatest weapon meant that at some point when Harry miraculously gets the upperhand, he refuses to kill Voldemort and instead uses his powers of love to win V over. I believe there may have been some corny talk about “father he never had” etc. Very cliche. But wait, you say, there’s that whole prophecy of one not being able to live while the other survives thing. Yes, that occurred to me during my dream too. Voldemort casts off his evil persona and becomes Tom Riddle again, thus killing Lord Voldemort. Despite the fact that this would wrap up the series in a tidy if unsatisfying and anticlimactic way. I seriously doubt this is the way Rowling decided to go with the series.

In my dream last night, I was the main character from Patricia Wrede’s Mairelon the Magician. I don’t remember as much about this except that for some reason a fair amount was taking place at SMU (in Dallas and not in the book), and that like the main character, I was determined to stay out of the stews. What I find odd about this dream, I mean beside the dream itself, was that this is a book I haven’t read in about 5 years, and haven’t thought about in many months. I’m not sure where my subconscious drug it up.

I fear this post has left me sounding insane, especially if it turns out that I’m the only person that dreams about other people’s novels. It’s one thing to dream about your own characters since they take up so much of your life. But other people’s? I fear I may have a lack of imagination.

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May be excerpted and duplicated for educational purposes.
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