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I had a better dream last night.  I started to read Arthur Rimbaud's poetry and it is lovely, so perhaps that helped. 

I was on a large 25 foot flat disc in grey, a flying saucer really, with others - mostly children - a little girl with bunches and a pink dress was sitting next to me.  We were all strapped down with these sort of restraining straps.  There was a pilot who went round and checked them and tightened them up at one stage. We were all sitting up though.  The saucer was ascending a hill but following a winding ascending road, very odd feeling because we were about 10 feet off the ground but gliding noiselessly along like a hovercraft.

Then we reached the top and off we went whoosh - like a rocket.  Odd how logic had ensured we were all strapped in because we would all have shot off backwards if we hadn't, the thing was so shiny and there were no handholds, so we would have been off like a shot the moment it accelerated. 

And the rest of the dream, until I woke up with a real start, was us careering around the universe like a bullet. 

Much nicer than having blood covered worms coming out of the side of your head, which was the dream the night before. Or incessantly trying to catch train after train from platforms labelled 297AA or 675 BBB  - and the extra B is important, as I found