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I do not put great store into dreams - they have no deep meaning. They are a mixture of current affairs, historical photo albums and some mental high jinks. They are like leafing through a scrap-book while listening to the radio. On acid.

When I wake I am usually aware that I have been dreaming, but not of the specifics. Sometimes I do remember what I was dreaming just before I woke, but forget within thirty seconds. That brief memory is like clutching at smoke.

Rarely I do remember in detail, but even then usually just a small excerpt.

Here are two recent snippets:

The next book in Jasper Fforde's Eyre Affair series will be written by Ben Elton. I was surprised at the news but then saw, or was shown, a copy of the book with the author's name on the cover. The book was on a white table in an all-white room. I then cut to an image of Jasper Fforde working on his new novel, title and theme unknown.
[I have no idea what inspired this.]

I was preparing to dive in full SCUBA gear. There were four or five others with me. I was not the leader of the group – the man who was had a blonde beard and was somewhat paunchy. We were diving to confront some non-specific monsters, which would be found at great depth. The dream cut away to a scene of a dismembered body, then returned to the final preparations. We were in a small pool in a white tiled room, the pool serving as the entrance to a deep cave system.
[This was inspired by an article I read a couple of weeks ago about the death of Dave Shaw in Bushman's Hole, South Africa. He was diving to recover the body of a fellow diver but died in the attempt. The article is here and is as good a piece of journalism as I have read all year. The dive pool bore much resemblance to the one in The Abyss]