Dreaming

I am up high above the ground, either flying in some way or being shown the view below. (It reminds me of a scene from Harry Potter where Harry flies around on a broomstick during a game of Quidditch.) I can see all around the coast and recognise a cove I’ve always wanted to visit. I remember that recently, someone got hurt jumping from there; I can see why, it’s not tall enough to jump from.

I’m in some kind of courtyard; it all feels very serene, and I love the feelings I’m having. There are walls around me, but they don’t feel imposing in any way, more exciting, as I want to explore what’s inside them. I notice a witch on a broomstick, flying into an alcove in one of the walls. I go to the alcove and can see the broomstick bristles in the hole. I ask her to come out, and out comes Malcolm Richards. He stands in front of me in a long, floor-length robe of multicolours. I say a poem to him that rhymes well, but it’s also a spell.