Well, I have pieced together a fair bit of my dream last night. As usual, it made far more sense when I was asleep.

In the first part of the dream, I gather I was in a race. Other vehicles included the General Lee, a Corvette ZR-1, and Viper. Not a Dodge Viper: one of the fighter jets from Battlestar Galactica. My own vehicle was a race car I invented for a story I wrote when I was a kid, a sort of hybrid between an F-1 and a swamp boat. I don't actually know who won the race, since me and the Viper stopped at a drive-through to pick up lunch, and this seamlessly led to my cleaning out the refrigerator, a journey of discoverey that revealed many interesting foodstuffs I'd forgotten that I had.

This (naturally) led me into an episode of The Tomorrow People. There was some kind of alien cloning plot going on, and, naturally, we had to deal with it. Now, I was a mere novice Tomorrow Person, but I was able to deduce the company acting as a front for the evil plot. As luck would have it, John had been financing his private life by freelancing as an accountant, and theirs was one of the companies in his portfolio. Thus, we were able to use this as a pretext to infiltrate their operation. A clone secretary attempted to seduce me, but I was able to fend off her advances while the others reprogrammed a clone (played by David Verrey) to off the other conspirators (being unable to do it themselves).

So this is more or less when I woke up. But after a long and pleasant phone call from the lady of my affections, I must have nodded off again, because I remember having the very clear and distinct sense that she'd crawled into bed behind me and was pressed against me, whispering affectionate things in my ear (this was a very chaste dream, but even if it wasn't, it's not like I'm going to tell you lot all the details, as those are between me and her). This was one of those rare, very tactile dreams, and even though it was fairly obvious that I was indeed dreaming, it was still several minutes after I'd snapped all the way back to consciousness that I could suppress the urge to look around, under the bed and such, to see where she'd gone.