Birds come flying at the speed of sound to show Rebecca how it all began.

Most of my dreams slip away when my alarm clock goes off, but last night's dream was so powerful and vivid that I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. I dreamt that I was at a little park with all of my old classmates from high school. Anne Marie, Caleb, Amber, RJ, Iman, Micah, Caroline, Bruce, Mari, Aric, Melissa, Drew -- everyone was there, and we had each been assigned to write a poem. I was trying to write one about Sigmund Boraks, but before I could get started, we got the news that our class had won some sort of special prize and we were all taking a plane ride to go and collect it.

The next thing I knew, we were all packed and riding a bus to the airport when suddenly I yelled that I had forgotten something. It must have been something important because we took a detour to my house just so I could get it. And then -- and this is where the dream becomes as real as any memory -- as I was stepping off the bus, I looked up the driveway and into the backyard. The sunlight was so bright, and I thought at first I was seeing things, so I raised my hand to shield my eyes. The pool was blue and clean, and I started to walk toward it. Then I saw that someone was swimming in it, and as I got closer, I saw it was Dad.

Today I have reached my goal of making the book last three weeks. If I were a realistic person, I would congratulate myself and finish the book today. But because I'm unrealistic and stubborn and hard-to-please, I've decided to try and make the final eleven chapters last for another week. Adam doubt that I'll be able to do it; he says the final five chapters have to be read all at once. We'll see. As much as I want to know what happens in the remainder of the book, I keep asking myself, if I finish it tonight, what will I read tomorrow? With summer drawing to a close so quickly, I have to make this book last a little longer, if only so I'll have something to look forward to. Fall semester starts on August 22. Less than three weeks of freedom left. Just thinking about it makes me less depressed than panicky. My hands start shaking, my chest gets tight, my teeth clench. I don't understand why I feel this way. Aren't college kids supposed to hate coming home to their parents? Sara does. Why don't I? Why does the thought of returning to LSU make my soul hurt?

Reading Chapter 18, "Birthday Surprises," was a wonderful experience. I read it all in one heady, breathless rush, lying on my bed while Coldplay's "Speed of Sound" played over and over in my head. I'll probably always associate that high-pitched chorus "If you could see it, then you'd understand" with this book. When I was done, I did read the few first pages of Chapter 19, just to make sure Ron was all right, but I saved the majority of it for the next day.

P.S. Adam still insists that Kreacher's name is pronounced kretcher, not creature.