Last night I had a dream. Not a particularly good dream, but not a bad one. I was running. Somewhere in the countryside, probably in England. Hills were surrounding me. I was running with another person. It was my future husband. I never saw his face (woe is me). We were running across the countryside and then through a great mound of snow and under a bridge. We came to a pile of material. Plastic mainly; huge sheets of it. They were all different sizes. Most of them were probably as big as a small tree and as wide as two cars. Massive! There were two other people there also. It was another couple. For some reason we were trying to steal the sheets of plastic and glass off them. It was materials for a house. We wanted them for our house but they had got to them first so we tried to steal as much as we could. It was kind of a race to see who could get the most material. But before we could haul the first sheet, the image faded and another segment of the dream took place. All I remember from this is a mountain and a huge house, and a lot of running and snow. But the snow wasn't cold. It was just ... there. I also remember vaguely something to do with a cup of tea. But that is all. Very strange indeed.