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I bet a psychiatrist would have fun with this.

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Last night I dreamt that I was washing a lot of mayonnaise out of Chris Usborn's (someone I fancied in school) shirts - this was because he was fighting the mayonnaise monster, whom he suspected was the one who would kill J.F.Kennedy. Somebody kept trying to tell him that it couldn't possibly be the mayonnaise monster that was going to kill Kennedy because it can't hold a rifle; even if it could, it would get mayonnaise in all the workings and wouldn't function properly.

Meanwhile, while I was washing Chris' shirts, I noticed that a lot of them had a picture of a toucan printed on them. I tried to ask him why he had a picture of a tropical bird on his shirts, but he was too busy fighting the mayonnaise monster. When I turned back to the big tub where I was washing his shirts, a large toucan had landed on the side of the tub. It muttered something about the cult of the toucan. I didn't really understand what it said, so I just agreed with it and carried on washing shirts.

By which time Chris had defeated the mayonnaise monster, and was holding aloft a sticky handful of mayonnaisey tuna and sweetcorn proclaiming that he had torn out the heart of the beast and that Kennedy had nothing to worry about now.