Why can't I dream of Aragon instead?

In my dream, I was atop the rolling hills. A tall old man in white cloak shaking his bony finger an inch away from my face.

Cariad, he said, you carry your knowledge yet not wisdom
And that would be the weapon of your destruction.
Patience, my dear one. Endure what is to come.
And you shall see truth between glib tongues.

Cariad, he said, I can teach you all you need to learn
But wisdom, like respect, cannott be taught, but only earned
For never the one who said too much
Could be praise for their good judgment.

Cariad, he said, you are but much too young
You carry fire, yet know not whence it comes
Nay not look far, but hither
[he lowered his bony finger and poked me – twice – over my left chest]
Heed my words and comes what's your.

I woke up and lost half of my voice. I think the Gandalf-wanna-be dude took it! >.<