I have more fun in my dreams than I do in my waking life. The best and most entertaining dreams are the little short stories that happen after the alarm goes off, before I manage to wake up enough to get out of bed.
This morning, I got up (in my dream) and came downstairs to find Valentine presents that were singing songs to me, a wedding reception or funeral after-party going on, full of people I didn't know and who barely spoke to me, and Husband taking down Christmas decorations. All the hubbub bothered me so I went outside and found Angus poodle with his leg broken right off and lying next to him. He seemed not to mind very much, and later in the dream, he was whole again.
Yesterday I had dreams of flying my car through very deep snow like a boat through water, seeing whitetail deer who were so curious about me that they followed me to sniff me, and a billy goat who let me hold his beard for a minute.
It's the Winter Effect, I think. My senses are so starved for stimulation that my brain is inventing these fantastical stories.