To Kill You With a Kiss

Chapter 5

"Dreams," said Professor Inigo Imago dreamily, "are the most archaic form of magic. For in our dreams, the ancient wisdom of our hearts speaks of hidden truths that our minds cannot and will not see." His large soulful eyes gazed past the students in his Divination class, as if he were staring at some mysterious truth that lay ever so slightly beyond the confines of the classroom. "But sometimes I ask myself: What is dream, and what is reality? For are not our nightly dreams equally vivid as that dream which we call 'reality'? Who is to say what is real, and what is a dream? Perhaps all reality is, after all, yet another dream?"

He sighed softly. Drawing his midnight-blue robes closer around himself, he whispered in a strange faraway voice: "There was once a wise wizard in a distant land who dreamed that he was a phoenix. He soared through the blue air, and his heart was filled with joy. But then he woke up, and he recalled that he was just a man. But, being a wise man, he soon began to wonder: Was he a man who had dreamed that he was a phoenix, or was he a phoenix who was now dreaming that he was a man?"

"Merlin's beard, I need some coffee!" muttered Abraxas. "This stuff always make me so terribly sleepy."

"Now, please turn to your partner and discuss your most recent dreams. Try to look beyond the surface, try to see with your heart: What does the dream truly mean?"

Chairs scraped, students regrouped, and a quiet murmur of voices followed.

"Perfection..." Harry could make out John Lupin's voice nearby. "That's what I think your dream represents, Araminta. "The crowd that chases the deformed Muggle down the street with spears represents your own inner quest for absolute perfection."

No, I'm pretty sure it just represents her desire to chase Muggles with spears... Harry turned his attention to Abraxas. "So... er... had any good dreams lately?"

"Me?" Abraxas grinned. "Not nearly as good as yours, judging by the little cleaning spell I head you mutter this morning."

Harry felt himself flush. "Oh, Merlin, Abraxas! In didn't know anyone else was awake. Everyone has a dream like that every once in a while."

"I suppose so." Abraxas' grey eyes glittered. "Would you care to share the details of that delicious dream that caused you to... er... use that particular spell?"

"No, I wouldn't. I don't remember any of it anyway."

"That's too bad. I could help you interpret it, you know."

"No, thanks."

It's all your fault anyway, Abraxas Malfoy! You are the one who told me that my bed in the Slytherin dormitory used to be Tom Riddle's. So when he tells me that he's engaged to be married, it's only natural that my subconscious mind starts conjuring up images of what he and his fiancee were doing in my bed last year, on those smooth silver satin sheets. At least, I think it's only natural. I'm sixteen; sixteen-year-olds have weird erotic dreams all the time. Or am I seventeen now, inside the strange dreamworld of this memory? Of course the thought that someone may have made love in my bed affected me. It would make anyone dream strange dreams, wouldn't it? It wasn't really about them, about him and her. She was just a shadowy figure anyway; I can't even imagine what she may have looked like when she was young. And I just imagined his face because... Oh, God, I wish I could go back to dreaming of screaming dementors instead, like I used to. "

Harry cleared his throat. "I had a dream once about a man being attacked by a snake, at the end of a long, dark corridor. How about we talk about that one instead?"

Abraxas sighed. "Oh, all right. But I still think the other one would have been more interesting." He leafed through his Divination book. "Hmm. A man being attacked by a snake? Intriguing symbol - I wonder what that dream was all about..."