I'm absolutely not one of those 'let me tell you about my dream' types.  If Gary tries to tell me about one, I just say 'stop!'.  Seriously, it's only interesting to the dreamer.   Monkeys on flying carpets in Poundland? Keep it to yourself. 

Anyway, bear with me.  Gary went off to work in the van at 5am.  I got up for a pee, went back to bed and had a dream that he phoned to say he'd broken down and could I collect him from work.  A few hours later, he phoned to say the van had broken down and, yes, could I collect him from work. 

Here I am reflected in the office window while I wait for him to clock off.