Superheroes and Harry Potter (long)

Date: 10/17/2016

It started in a disgusting prison: moldy and old. It was like a comic book however, as the color was a single shade of tan-pink with grey outlines. I was walking around the prison cells, which were like small animal kennels. Inside were disgusting monsters, with mutilated limbs and weapons for hands. Many had empty holes for eyes. They are excited that I am letting ten out of their cells. The scene switches to a store. I am with a great number of younger people with superpowers. I am in the body of a kid who has electromagnetic hands: I can propel myself to any object as though there is a strong magnetic attraction. There is some sort of scavenger hunt going on. I head outside to a small hill of the side of the store. I can stay hidden while overlooking the parking lot. I soon switch to the body of a woman (age 25?) who is hiding in the grass below the hill, closer to the store. I am noting how the kids cannot see me. They soon walk back towards the store, but they do not see me and some even walk right over me. The grass wasn't even that high. I switch to another kid's body and I run to the other side of the store. I find a small room and warm two of my friends (one of them being the electromagnetic kid) about some plot. They hear it but do not seem concerned. The scene switches again and I am Harry Potter in Dumbledores office. Instead of being at Hogwarts, it is atop a massive stone structure, which is shaped sort of like a giant disk with jutting pillars. We talk about my future, and how the world needs great men to lead. I think about being president, and how I would have a larger office than this (stone structure was at least a mile in diameter). Dumbledores asks what is wrong and I say I am tired. He tells me about some gardens to relax at outside. I am transported to the 1930s. I enter a shop that is full of objects popping out with noises (surprises, not scares). I get to the third floor, which turns into a ceramic museum. It is very cramped. As I try to pass in between two sculptures, I apologize to the woman behind me for my fat American legs. I then hit a small sculpture of a sneaker and put a small crack into it. The museum curator comes in and fines me $30. I am angry but I understand. I walk into a room where my family is having hamburgers for dinner. They are concerned that I don't want any mustard or pickles. I go to a window and see the skyline. There are only three or so towers, each being maybe ten stories tall. I taste a pickle sitting on the windowsill. It tastes like a pickle. The dream ends.