This was an interesting one.

I was going out to my friend's beach house, and he wanted me to invite my super-model friends along.

I don't have any super model friends (Stephen Hawking is a close pal, but that's not really the same thing).

In my dream, though, as often happens in dreams, things weren't exactly as they are in real life.

Which is probably why I had Milla Jovovich in my phone's autodialer.

So, I called her. My friend was really insistent. To be totally honest, I wasn't entirely certain that I wanted Milla to be there. She's nice and all, but this was, like, vacation. I can hang with Milla whenever. What I really wanted was some peace and quiet.

Anyway, I called her.

I had to give her directions on how to get to the beach house, but she wasn't the world's greatest student.

And, you know, it dawned on me - I don't want to start any rumors here, but...

<whispering>
  I think Milla Jovovich might have been using drugs.
</whispering>

I finally managed to get it through her thick (but rather delightful-in-appearance) skull that the beach house was, well, near the beach, and that she merely needed to, well, direct her car in a beachly direction in order to find it.

While we were waiting for her to show up, I went into the TV room. It was terribly, terribly odd. The room was overbearingly hot, but, if I stood in one small section of the room, there was an inexplicable patch of very comfortable air. I kind of hopped in and out of this patch, remarking at its puzzling static nature.

Then, I went outside. I walked up by a tree and looked at some Star Trek flowers (Star Trek flowers are flowers that look very nice, but which would probably try to eat you if you got too close).

After the flowers, I moved along to the deck. I took a bad step on a rotten plank and fell right through.

I woke up, panting, sweating, and wishing that I could remember Milla's phone number.