Dream and Valentines Day Memory

I'll start with the memory today; this was one that I thought of yesterday for no apparent reason.

On Valentines Day in third grade, we were all required to make valentines cards for the whole grade; I neglected to tell my mom this until the night before, and so, the next morning, we traveled to the Harris Teeter near our house to purchase cheap valentine cards and candy. We got a variety bag of candy that contained some candy that I liked, and some that I didn't. My mom drove me in her silver PT Cruiser to the back of Brunson Elementary, where a path through a fence's gate led to the trailers where the third graders were taught. We sat in the parking lot and stuffed the valentines with candy, and I developed a system of sorts: I gave the candy that was my favorite to the people that I liked the best (like lollipops and 3 Musketeer Bars) and the candy that I liked the least to the people that I liked the least (like Snickers Bars and other nutty chocolate bars). I had this grand plan in mind to announce to the person that I fancied at the time (the first person, in fact, that I had ever fancied) that I had liked them since the beginning of third grade, or something along those lines; I can say nothing to describe how nervous I felt that day, that morning, as I sat in the car sorting valentine cards. As cheesy as this sounds, I got to his card, and felt as though I had swallowed something large in shock; trying to do this discreetly, I put two lollipops into his valentine, strawberry-flavored, which was my very favorite lollipop flavor back then. My mom looked over, noticed the two lollipops, and went, "Ooooh! Whose is that? Let me see!" She reached over, and I tried to hide it, but before I could, she saw the name. "Ahh, of course." she said, smiling. She dropped me off and I went inside the trailer. The time to distribute valentine cards came and went, and soon, everyone sat behind their desks, sifting through their loot; the guy I liked sat at my table, and just as I was trying to muster the courage to say something to him, he opened a folded-up piece of paper that had been buried at the bottom of his Valentine bag. He read it; his friends flocked around, and soon they were all laughing maniacally while he turned bright red. As it was, he had received a secret admirer note from some other girl in the class. There were a few seconds that I was almost convinced that I had put it in there under a nerve-induced trance of some sort, but I saw the handwriting and it was not mine; my friend, Elizabeth, came over and did not believe for the longest time that I wasn't the author of the note. Needless to say, the horrified look on the boy's face was enough to persuade me not to inform him of my feelings, as immature as they probably were at the time anyway.

Now for the dream: It was not last night, for I cannot recall my dreams from last night, but from the night before. It was another Harry Potter-esque dream (By the way, I just found out that we have tickets for the 5:30 showing on Wednesday!!!), except this time, I was myself, and not some character from the books. I was with my mom and Wesley in a hotel room that turned, halfway through the dream, into a cabin, and then back again. However, the environment didn't much matter in this dream. The important part was that I was practicing all the spells that I could remember with my wand, while my mom and Wesley observed from various parts of the room; I was preparing to intercept Voldemort on his way to conquer the Ministry of Magic, as silly as that sounds (yes, I'm a nerd). The one spell I could not remember in this dream (in the previous one, I couldn't remember how to Stun) was the spell that produced water, which I think is "Aguamenti," though I can't be certain, as I have been an uncommitted nerd and haven't read the books in at least a year now. But anyways, though I was preparing to meet my certain doom, the stress in the dream was minimal; in fact, I have made the conclusion that, while some people wake up exhilarated from flying dreams, others from dreams involving super-powers, and others from dreams that involve the love of their life, I earn my subconscious bliss from waving a stick at something and watching it respond.