So I dreamt that Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine were driving past my house in a pickup truck, and as they turned the corner, Zach flew out the window and somehow ended up planted neck-deep in my lawn (with no injury, of course, to him or my lawn). Chris drove off without looking back. I, already being outside for some reason, helped pull Zack out of my lawn. I stammered that I really liked him in Heroes and Star Trek, and we struck up some vaguely pleasant conversation, like one does with a friendly but newly-met acquaintance.
At one point, I wanted to write him a note to take with him, so I wrote it on a Wavy Lays potato chip. But of course it broke into several pieces when he went to put it in his pocket, so I re-wrote it on paper, adding my phone number and e-mail address. Zach smiled and took it, and then had to go catch up with Chris, because they had to go to work or something.
Then I woke up.
What the hell is my brain smoking and why isn't it sharing? That's what I want to know.