WHEN I WOKE FULLY...

I had my doubts. I mean, it WAS a lot to hang on one wicked pun. Wicca'd pun. Wickered pun. I even wondered if the dream were really just warning me that our houseplants have scale mites.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that when I peeled the dome off City Hall I'd done something vital and way overdue. So now, years later, I do think that wicker dome was my belief only girls have good magic--boys are prosaic and vulnerable like Sandra Bullock's doomed husband, or at best immune to magic like Aidan Quinn--or if they DO have power, they're monsters like Nicole's bloodsucker boyfriend. No wonder I don't trust myself and keep my own magic in the closet, or turn female in my dreams to work magic! PRACTICAL MAGIC had no positive role models for me--and a glut of bad ones. If I trust my hunches, cultivate psychic dreams, or date the local witch-girls, I'll die or turn demonic or vampiric or... blah blah blah.

Despite my talk of unfinished business, I really DID dismantle that particular parasitic pile of bullshit about men and Wicca! I cleaned up City Hall. And it wasn't even work. It felt so GOOD! So...what else you got for me to rip to shreds?

Any annoying domes in your life?

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