I dreamed of Don and myself (presumably Randy, since I stood shorter than either) confronting Headmaster Weatherbent, ambushing him in his own room and forcing him to drink one of George's potions.  Don told him he had some remembering to do.

            I wrote the rest.  I asked myself, "What is Wallace Weatherbent's secret, anyway?"  Because everything indicated that he had one, and somehow the school, and through its graduates, the whole nation, had warped around it.  And he reacted strangely to things like a rose garden, or clouds that resemble scarves, or anything to do with women.  So I just started typing and this story happened.  It felt scary, how it just tore through me onto the screen, and what resulted.  I almost erased it all.