Two Weird Dreams

So, I had the first Harry Potter dream of the new year, though that wasn't the only one from last night; let me preface by saying that I slept terribly. It's been so dry lately (since we have to keep the heat on full blast) that it's become impossible to breathe out of my nose. So, breathing out of my mouth, I woke to find that there was no moisture left in my mouth or throat, and my tongue tasted bad. I kept waking up and thinking, "I ought to go to the bathroom (since it's right across the hall) and drink some water," but something, most likely laziness, preventing me from ever getting up and doing this task.
Well, moving on - to the dreams. In the first dream, my dad and I were visiting my grandparents at their condo in Atlanta, though the lay-out of it was quite different. The mirrored walls that surround the dining room in real life were all over the house except for in the non-existent guest bedroom, where I stayed in the dream and where the keyboard was plugged in for my amusement; in here, the walls were paneled in oak. In the dream, I sat on the piano bench, trying to play the Chopin that I've been learning; my dad banged around in the kitchen on the far side of the building, in a bad mood for some reason that I don't remember (I think that it had something to do with conflict between my grandparents, but this part of the dream is hazy in my memory).
As I sat there, horsing around (I've always wanted to use that phrase in writing - thank you, Mr. Caulfield), someone entered through the door on the left of the piano, on the same wall. It was Talia, whom I used to go to school with but who now goes to West; she carried some books of sheet music on her arm. I stood up as she entered and she immediately moved to sit down at the piano and play; we spoke a little, but there seemed to be no confusion on my part about why she was in Atlanta, in my grandparents' condo, playing their piano. We chatted about the various things that we did over the summer (I'm not sure what time of year it was in the dream) and suddenly, she broke off, masterfully playing a piece of music by memory that I recognized as being by Mozart. Slightly irritated at this point, I sat down on the edge of the bench and said, "Ah; I've learned some Mozart over the summer as well." Then I began to play the "K. 545 Sonata," Second Movement. She stood and watched for a few seconds, before cutting me off and gossiping about something that happened at West (Talia, if you read this, don't take it personally - I know you don't do this sort of thing in real life).
Then the dream changed, and I found myself being jostled about by a crowd of faceless tourists; I could hear the roar of the ocean on my left and catch a glimpse of it lashing beneath the night sky. In this dream, my company consisted of Elisabeth, and I spoke to her excitedly as we followed the crowd of people into a dark opening in the rock on our right.
"Do you think that they've preserved the boat and everything?" I gushed.
She was wearing a conservative, black dress, her hair was in a bun, and her face was drawn tight in professional musing. "I don't know," she murmured distractedly as we waded through the shallow water of the cave, "It would be poor maintenance on their part if it was destroyed."
It seemed as though the cave from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was open as a tourist attraction. We entered the cavernous room in which the horcrux was hidden in the book, with its perimeter of a small, rocky shore and its island in the center of the vast, black body of what would have been sinister, Inferi-infested water. Now, the water was cleared of the dead it had once harbored, and people crowded with cameras and loud children around the walls, pointing, touching, observing. Elisabeth walked around the right edge of the black pool until we came to the place where we somehow knew the boat would be. It rose silently from the water, we climbed aboard, and rode across to the center island. Lit with decorative lamps, the island was not at all what I imagined it to be in the book; at the center, to replace the cauldron that would have held the potion Dumbledore was forced to drink, there was an old, engraved wooden chest with clasps in the shape of angels. Approaching it, we opened the clasps and peered inside, only to find a wooden imitation of what the horcrux (Voldemort's mother's locket) would have looked like. My disappointment must have showed, for Elisabeth said, "You can't be too disappointed. I mean, you knew that it wouldn't be here." I sighed, nodded to acknowledge the validity of her statement, and followed her back to the boat. As we were traveling back to the open air, I woke up because I was having difficulties breathing through the dryness of my lips and throat.