I dreamt that I was staying with some friends in England when three of the Beatles came in. Eating a huge sandwich, I was in the kitchen at the time. They came to the kitchen through the back door. Wearing raincoats, they seemed to know the house well. We exchanged greetings, but there were no hosts around to introduce us. I remember feeling awkward. In their late sixties and early seventies, they were still recognizable. I could not remember their names, though. I knew that one of them was George Harrison, but I could not figure out which one. I also knew that John Lennon was long dead, which simplified my problem. At some point I started talking to them, just to let them know that I had recognized them. My mouth was still full, and I could barely speak. The three of them were trying to make out what I was telling them. I remember feeling ever more awkward. Luckily, I woke up before finishing my sentence. It was already light outside and I went to pee. I could not believe that I dreamt of the Beatles, of all people. I shook my head all the way to the toilet and back to bed.