A very spectacular dream last night in which I was in bed but the bed, on casters, was being blown along the pavement. Initially this was in Shenfield High Street but after a while we (the bed and I - no-one else was in it) joined the A12 and started hurtling towards London. Peculiarly, the A12 had had a carriageway reversal because we were driving in the continental style, on the right-hand-side.
At one point I was overtaken far too closely by a woman in a beaten-up white fiesta with sticky-backed flowers stuck to it so I gave her car a shove and it moved over to the correct lane. After that, she let go of her steering wheel and started rummaging around on the back seat, all the time with a phone in her ear. Fortunately at that point my bed took on an enormous burst of speed so I overtook her again and left her behind.
After a while I veered off and found myself in some woodland with some sort of ambulance station / hospital in it. The bed became stationary amongst the wood anemones and almost as soon as it had done so, mice started to burrow out of the mattress. I got out of bed and phoned Mrs. Wow and asked her if she could come and collect me, but before she turned up some annoying children arrived and decided to start lying in my bed and covering it in mud from their shoes.
Eventually Mrs. Wow arrived with Ben, our son-in-law, and we lifted the bed bodily and then started pushing it back along the road. Then there was a bit of dream I don't remember so I'll fast forward to a later bit in which Ben appeared, covered in blood, and he was going to take LOCOG to court because he'd tripped over some concealed bit of Olympic-related street furniture.