Waking up with my mouth tasting like an ashtray, because I dreamt I was in a sidewalk cafe in Chicago, despite being a British non-smoker? Or finding myself absent-mindedly doing everything with my left hand, including some legible writing? It's a bit 'Being John Malkovich', but I'm other people in my dreams, or at least, looking out of their eyes. Too much Bradbury in early childhood? I'm glad it isn't just me that dreams in epic technicolour and SFX.