It started with Lori and me in a motel on a road trip. I don't recall exactly where we were, but I recall that Los Angeles was a couple hundred miles away.
The door slammed open, and a black man with a gun entered. We both froze. As I was thinking "Huh, this is my first time being robbed, he picked up an RPG book off the table, menaced us again with the gun, and left.
As we hurriedly packed up to leave, another gunman broke in. He pointed the gun at me and squeezed the trigger--and nothing happened. I yelled, "It's not a wand! You need ammo, dummy!!"
Apparently the dream had slipped into the Harry Potter universe. We were on the run from Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and they were hot on our tail.
The final scene involved a pleasant blond woman who was trying to help us get out. She knocked at our door with something for me, but I didn't take it. After a couple of incidents where she offered me something and I declined, she asked, "Why won't you take it?" I blurted out, "I'm afraid it's a Portkey that will take me somewhere unpleasant." The look on her face told me I was correct.