Being a Salt Witch

The other day I had a dream, that I was in training to be a salt witch. Something big (and unnameable) was coming, so we had to be prepared. We ramped up "practice" (coven getting together and trying new spells/perfecting old ones) to every night to best prepare ourselves.

I discovered a girl who had salt witch potential so naturally I invited her to join me.

"How will we get there?" she asked me.

"We fly, of course!" I exclaimed, taking off into the air.

"I can't fly!" she called after me.

"You can if you want to!" I responded joyfully. Turns out she did want to, so she came sputtering up after me.

We flew through a large network of power lines. Good thing this isn't a dream, I thought, or I'd have gotten tangled in those. (True story, many of my dream flights end with me tangled in power lines. Obviously a metaphor for how trapped I feel in life?)

We flew to a run-down looking neighborhood - an apartment on, of all things, Salt Street. Our masters/teachers/coven leaders were a man and a woman, incredibly powerful. In fact, they were so powerful that they couldn't control their powers and some time in the past had gone completely insane. To save the world from destruction, some authority in the salt witchery world erased their knowledge of their power - it could only be awakened (and thus, managed) when they were training their coven.

The female leader was Arlene, from True Blood:

and the male was SO powerful that at some point in his life he disintegrated his entire body and was actually just a floating head, trailed around by a purple cloud. He looked a little like Jambi the Genie...

... except flesh-colored.

Sadly, that's about all I remember, except that I was an exceptionally good at mastering new spells and techniques.

A Salt Witch Prodigy, if you will.