William hesitated. He couldn't recall any recent dreams offhand. The ones that stood out, the ones he'd recorded and examined exhaustively, weren't properly dreams and were not, at any rate, ones that ought to be shared.
There was his experience in taking Bathory's Curse, falling to earth with the angels and speaking in tongues, which had been illegal and could get more people than just him in trouble if it got out. There was the dreamwalking with Spencer, which had solved the mystery of the bindrune but which presented the same problem. The first dream with Professor Trohman had been different in that it had been genuinely his dream and was thus viable for interpretation, but that dream had involved music from behind a closed door and a cauldron-Boggart falling from a cupboard. It felt too personal to give away so easily.
"I'm not a lucid dreamer," he admitted. "I've been working toward that goal, for the reasons I explained. I can relate some of what I've experienced, if you think you would find it helpful, but..." He thought of the charm-web unraveling and his hands soaked with blood, and hesitated again. "I'd rather not."