...where (I have no idea where I was) but J. K. Rowling was giving me a book (it was her in person, I saw her), bound like my copy of Deathly Hallows from Bloomsbury, but when I opened it, it had all the 10.000-ish exclusive words she's about to release in Pottermore. And it was brilliant.
And then I woke up. No joke. I did dream it.
I'm suffering from Post-Potter-Traumatic-Disorder. Help!