Last night's dream sequence featured a dog with a human head. The head was from the 1930s with brillantined hair and a neat moustache. I was explaining to whoever else was there that I quite liked the dog. Otherwise I was thinking of joining a comedy troupe.
I went upstairs to wish my mother good night, fill her hot water bottle, all that sort of thing and she fixed me with an accusatory stare and asked me why she hadn't had her breakfast yet.