I had a dream that involved me being a novelist writing gritty '30s detective stories, and I was staying out in the woods and having writer's block. I just couldn't finish the novel I was working on.
So I was driving down these muddy dirt roads, trying to clear my head, when I saw a bunch of paperback books laying in this puddle on the side of the road. I pulled over and picked up the waterlogged books, and it was one each of all the novels in my hard-boiled detective series, including the novel I was currently stuck writing, with my name on it and everything, and the copyright date was this year. I had no idea where this book came from or how it got printed or what it was doing on the side of the road.
So I called a friend of mine (a generic dream friend, nobody I know from real life) and we met on this disused railroad trestle and were discussing the possible implications of the book. Should I just transcribe it and send the finished product to the publisher? Can you plagiarize yourself? Or at least your "self" from some alternate universe?
My imaginary dream friend was giving me his ideas. Then Lady Gaga came flying down the road under the trestle on which we were standing in a Porsche 550RS Spyder and very deliberately steered it right into a bridge abutment, going up in a spectacular ball of magnesium-and-gasoline flames. Then I woke up.