I dreamt that someone had chosen the old house I was brought up in as a location for a film (plot was unclear, something to do with singing cartoon nuns). I was the go-fer for the project. The main editing unit was in our shed but it was really damp and making all the sets rot. All the actors were complaining about their parts and the singing bits were awful (echos of 'Highschool musical' style stuff) and it was generally all collapsing around our ears - it was clear the project was crap. I tried re-writing bits, spending ours in our shed poring over manuscripts, but then the director finally turned to me and said...shall we just throw this away and do you want to write a new film? I was obviously elated at this, but just at that point, teenaged kids started crawling over the wall in the back garden and started throwing bricks and kicking things over. I was just readying me and a few nuns with bats to sort them out when the alarm went off.

Personally I blame the leeks I had last night for tea.