La Petite Mort

I had the most intense, vivid dream of Snape last night. So much so that I remembered it fully upon waking up this morning and had no need to write the details. The dream began fairly cryptic (as dreams often do), but there was one clear detail: I was Hermione. For some odd reason, I was on a chairlift running over a very old and quaint ski village. I was sitting next to Wyatt Kaine (of Tin Man), and we were discussing mundane topics as we were flying off to who knows where. At some point I do remember closing my eyes and bracing myself because we were lifting a little too high above the houses.

Then, the lift cascaded us (or rather just me because as this part of the dream begins, Kaine disapears) into a window, and I landed in a very old dusty library, where Snape was perusing a rather huge section on occult books. He turned around, saw me and had this really brilliant smile. Which was odd, because even in the dream I thought this wasn't right. And then he just started rambling on about such and such (I don't really recall what he was going on about), then simply stopped and stared at me.

At which point Harry came in and told me to back off, Snape had turned quite demented and was a dangerous man.

As dreams are wont to do, this particular event didn't last very long and I was now creeping into a very dark bedchamber, with instructions on the door to close and lock it after me. Snape was in bed (I assume it was Snape, all I saw was this dark mass of hair over a black pillow and under black sheets) and just made a small furtive movement as I closed and locked the door. I slipped under the sheets, and JUST as he turned around to do whatever he had planned ... of course, I woke up.

Bizarre as this sounds, this really made me want to write something about Snape, because his *presence* was so intensely real it stayed with me all day. Snape was real and tangible and was completely removed from the books or the movie. I want this Snape. I want this Snape badly.