Just throwing out some thoughts after a crappy night with nightmares and dreams and cover hogs.
- My dogs think it’s cold if it’s a cloudy day. Throw in weather cool enough to turn off the A/C and grab a comforter for the bed and they think we’re back in the heart of winter. As such, I fought for covers all night long.
- Mi Dios, I love that smile. I know it wasn’t meant for me, but my heart was gladdened by the sight of it.
- One of the saddest parts of a cycle is the knowledge that it is a cycle. The brightest, sunniest day can be tempered by remembering the clouds.
- One of the things I long for most of all is to take you by the hand and look into your eyes and share some time. I don’t know what I would say if I could say anything, but the thought of this wring tears of joy from my eyes. Also deepest pain. Je regrette.
- Rain and clouds and gloom have made me introspective today. Maybe I’ll get over it.
(Hey guys! Here’s chapter 15! Now this one is pretty emotional, and I really enjoyed writing it, since some pretty good plot progress is finally going underway! I want to give a gigantic thanks to @voice-addicted for her idea for this chapter. She thought up 99% of the plot for this chapter so literally all of the credit goes to her~ This chapter was LONG overdue and I’m really sorry about that! I’m finally starting to pull this damn thing on track, and the next chapter is going to have a lot more plot than fluff (does this even count as fluff jesus). But I really am sorry and again:
I had a nightmare we were in like a rlly aggressive feud within our neighborhood ?? And one of our neighbors wanted to shoot us … we secured the house the same way we did for the hurricane … and it felt like I was the one that was the most worried and stressed about it I think my parents were drunk in my dream and Sophia was very nonchalant so when I heard one of the neighbors breaks into the house I tried to wake everyone up in a panic and no one was paying attn to me … I felt helpless
I think the dream’s symbolism is rlly strong tho it’s me feeling like I have to take care of my entire family and protect them (maybe not from guns but from economic issues) … the guns might have symbolized the Fear of me being the head of my household in the very near future.. the fear of finally having to face the outside world for them
My dog Chica had a nightmare last night. She doesn’t have them very often but when she does she’ll let out this adorable little howl that startles herself awake. She was a little shaken up about it but after a few snuggles in the hooman bed (usually off limits for doggos) she was happy as can be. After a while she hopped down to her own bed and drifted off into a peaceful pupper snooze. And I thought that was the end of it.
But I had a nightmare too. Now that’s not entirely uncommon, I have them fairly often and they’re something that I’ve gotten used to. But this one was a bad one.
The bad ones are the ones that I don’t wake up from. They’re the ones where my friends or loved ones are hurt in front of me and the only thing I can do is watch and cry and scream in the mad hope that it’s all just some terrible dream. Nothing ever happens to me in these dreams so I’m trapped within until I wake up of my own accord. But tonight was different.
Tonight, I felt something lick my hand and woke up in a cold sweat. There on the side of my bed was Chica, licking my hand and looking up at me with concern. Now I’m not sure how much a dog understands about nightmares and dreams and such, but she’s never woken me up from a nightmare before. I’d like to think that some part of her recognized what I was going through and she just wanted to wake me up to protect me from the scary monsters. I have never been more grateful to have Chica by my side than in that moment.
So I let her hop up on the hooman bed (twice in one night, oh boy!) and after a few snuggles I was happy as can be.
Whether it runs in your family or you are self taught, a witch is a witch is a witch. Many practitioners of the craft do, however, show signs of the gift in early childhood. For people born in families either unfamiliar or opposed to the craft, these signs often go unnoticed, neglected (or in the worst case, punished). For those who are familiar, it can be heartwarming to see a child take after you, or at least witness a free spirit thrive.
Here are common signs NBWs sometimes experience as children :
Odd dreams/sleep habits:
*Not to be confused with any underlying health conditions* I’ve heard many people say that one of the earliest signs that they (or their parents) noticed was abnormal dreams or sleep. Although all children usually experience odd dreams/nightmares/sleepwalking, there may sometimes be more too it than meets the eye. This can start anywhere from the infant stage to young adulthood. For me personally it started out as “sleepwalking” while still in the crib, which later turned into strange dreams and eventually clairvoyance. Chronic or reoccurring odd dreams are probably the most common sign for many. Dreams with strange figures, creatures, individuals, symbolism, or even unfamiliar languages and deceased ancestors are potential flags.
Children getting Deja Vu in excess, or having the ability to obtain strange knowledge from seemingly nowhere may be showing signs of clairvoyance. This goes beyond basic intuition. Clairvoyance can manifest in many different ways. It could be from dreams, or simply getting “feelings” (good or bad vibes) in certain situations. This typically gets stronger throughout puberty, but may develop much earlier or later in some.
A child taking a natural interest in witchy things is a pretty solid sign. For instance, when I was in third grade I became completely obsessed with herbal medicine for no apparent reason. I was just great at memorizing plants and their uses. Other common obsessions may be the supernatural in general, or perhaps the use of certain symbols in art. Young children may scribble pentagrams or other symbols they feel drawn to in excess. A child may draw strange or reoccurring art of otherworldly places, things, and beings.
*not to be confused with symptoms of mental illness! This is most common with very small children that typically outgrow it. Older children who ‘keep’ imaginary friends are usually evaluated by medical professionals to insure health.*
When people think of imaginary friends they often imagine a pegasus or a quirky, colorful character. These would be considered normal to most, but some “imaginary friends” could be described as… unsettling. A child may claim to speak to one or many different imaginary friends. These beings are sometimes described as resembling people or animals that once existed. A child may also describe what these characters say and do. Children may mysteriously have knowledge about something odd, and claim that their “imaginary friend” informed them. There are some who believe that small children can easily see through the veil, and therefore are able communicate with the other side more effectively than adults.
Signs of being an ‘empath’ can start very young. Children with the ability to easily tame wild or feral animals may be using these skills to do so. These children often come off as being mature for their age. They are usually levelheaded and caring of others. Their understanding of emotion may also make them good at lying, or occasionally manipulative. Negative energy affects them very badly, causing stress. This often causes these children to be more fond of animals than other children. Children with strong empathy usually enjoy pleasing others and making others happy. They thrive best in positivity and don’t take criticism well. This trait follows children into adulthood and can sometimes be difficult to manage.
Other General Signs:
A deep love for nature. A highly active imagination. A fascination with the unknown or supernatural. The urge to heal. An effortless respect for plants and animals. Appearing to be ‘lost in their own world’. A natural knack for herbalism, divination, ect. Seeming wise beyond their years. Abilities that appear otherworldly. Creating strange superstitions or stories, and probably much more that I haven't covered.
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”
Harry woke up to a half-naked Draco Malfoy
standing over his bed. At first he thought he was still dreaming until Malfoy
called out to him:
“Potter. Potter, wake up.”
In Harry’s dreams, Malfoy always called him
“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Harry had been
having a delightful dream in which Malfoy – although he was known to Harry as
Draco in the dream – had confessed his affections to Harry and asked him to
ride on a unicorn with him into space.
True – Harry was pleased to wake up to the
real Malfoy’s naked chest. But it left him with an inconvenient problem beneath
the sheets which he couldn’t really take care of with Malfoy staring down at
him like that. Well, actually, that was another fantasy of his, but he expected
in this situation, Malfoy would probably just punch him, rather than join in.
“I want to switch beds.” Malfoy said.
Harry frowned, looking over to Malfoy’s
vacant four poster. The sheets were thrown wide, the pillow on the floor beside
“There’s something wrong with that bed. I
think it’s haunted.”
“You think the bed is haunted?” Harry
Malfoy crossed his arms over his (naked!)
“And you want me to sleep in it?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Better you than me.”
“Absolutely not.” Harry rolled away from
Malfoy. He was tired. And he wanted to finish his dream.
“So, you believe me that it’s haunted then?”
Malfoy asked. A clear challenge.
“No,” Harry clarified into his pillow, “I
just don’t see why I should have to be inconvenienced because of your paranoia.”
“You’re already awake, and I’m going to
stand here until you agree.”
Harry knew he would too. Malfoy was
“Fine.” Harry jumped up and scrambled into
the other bed. He retrieved the pillow from the floor, readjusted the sheets
and settled in. Haunted or not, Harry could tell he was going to have a good
sleep now. The bed smelt like Malfoy. That would complement Harry’s dreams
Sleep came quickly.
was in the Department of Mysteries. At the end of one of the long corridors he
saw it – a curtain. He knew Sirius was right behind the curtain. He glided forward. If
he could just reach it – but a hand pulled him back. He turned around to find hundreds
of inferi crawling towards him, the closest one with a grip on his arm that was
tightening, bruising his skin, crushing the bone beneath. He tried to scream
but all that came out was a hiss.
was in Little Hangleton Graveyard. The tombstones were so large they towered
over his head, the engravings with big wiry letterings spelling out the names
of the dead. Lily Potter. James Potter. Cedric Diggory. Sirius Black. Albus
Dumbledore. Hedwig. Dobby. Fred Weasley. Collin Creevey. Remus Lupin.
Nymphadora Tonks. Severus Snape. And the last – the biggest tombstone of them
all: Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior. Beneath it, the earth was shaking, the dirt
crumbling away. The Dark Lord was returning.
was in The Forbidden Forest. A high-pitched laughter rang in his ears. The sky
flashed green. The trees were whispering, telling him to turn back, telling him
to run. But his feet kept walking forward. The trees grew sparse. He was almost
at the clearing. And when he reached it, he was going to die.
Harry woke up in a sweat, his heart beat
threatening to rip the organ from his chest. He threw the sheets away, and
tried to calm himself with deep breaths, but the scenes from his dreams – no, his nightmares
– flashed in front of his eyes over and over again. Maybe Malfoy was right –
maybe the bed really was haunted.
He pulled himself up, ignoring the
heaviness of his head. As soon as he was off the bed, he felt instantly calmer.
He could still remember the nightmares but they were no longer pining him down
with their weight. No longer crawling under his skin. It was no wonder Malfoy wanted to swap beds.
Harry looked over to his own bed. Malfoy
was fast asleep. It wasn’t fair that he got to have the unicorn space dreams
(Harry could only presume) in Harry’s bed, while Harry had scary death
nightmares in his. He walked over.
“Malfoy.” Harry prodded Malfoy’s side. “Malfoy.”
Malfoy grumbled as he slowly regained consciousness.
“Stop it, Potter. I’m sleeping.”
“I want my bed back.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t haunted.”
“I was wrong,” Harry said stiffly. He didn’t much like admitting it, especially not to his ex-rival whom he currently had the hots for.
Malfoy smiled, his eyes still closed. “Say
“I was wrong,” Harry repeated with a sigh. “Can
I have my bed back now?”
“I’m not going back there.”
“Well, neither am I,” Harry retorted. He
didn’t fancy another trip to the Forbidden Forest.
Malfoy rolled over to the edge of the bed,
his back to Harry. “Get in then.”
Harry knew he had heard wrong. “Excuse me?”
“Just don’t hog the covers,” Malfoy
continued, “and you better not drool in your sleep.”
Harry hesitated, looking back at Malfoy’s
bed. He already knew he wouldn’t be going back there. Not tonight. He suspected
someone had cursed it, and he was already planning his revenge for when he
found out who, but for now, there wasn’t anything else to do but sleep. And he
wasn’t going to get much on the floor.
Not to mention, the thought of sleeping
with – well, sleeping next to – Malfoy was all kinds appealing. Scary, and
awkward and embarrassing of course. But very appealing.
He climbed into the bed slowly, careful not
to accidentally touch or jostle Malfoy in any way. He didn’t want to seem like
he was taking advantage of the situation. He had no idea what Malfoy thought
about it. Thought about him.
Harry managed to orient himself in bed so
no part of his body was touching Malfoy’s. True - it left him almost falling off the
side, but it was a minor discomfort. A necessity to keep a healthy, platonic space between him and Malfoy.
When he fell asleep, he was pleased to
return to a journey of space travel with Draco on their magical unicorn.
But it was nothing compared to waking up
the next morning with Malfoy, the real Malfoy, snuggled into his chest, an arm
tightly clinging to his torso.
And that, in turn, was nothing compared to
when Malfoy sniffled in his sleep and mumbled: “Hmmm, Harry.”
Perhaps he wouldn’t be seeking revenge on whoever cursed Malfoy’s bed after all.