My parents divorced when I was 13 and I remember having a VERY vivid dream that my dad was having an affair with his (male) best friend, who took him in till he found a new place, climbed out of a deep depression etc. It was interesting, surprising, almost comforting. The dream, I mean, and my contemplations upon waking. In reality, I'm pretty sure my dad's a same-sex virgin.
By the way, speaking of vivid dreams, I had a dream I haven't been able to bring myself to tell anyone about... not that I especially need to... but you guys, last night I dreamt about one of you. I'm too weirded out by it to say who. I dragged one of you out of a lake on a little dinghy and attempted mouth-to-mouth breathing, pushing on the chest, hearing water in the lungs. It was very scary, in fact. Okay, and here's where it lines up with the essence of Henrypie: I managed to resussitate the nearly-drowned person, and with huge happiness and relief brought the person into my home (which wasn't my home at all), only to find that the person, while active and healthy, had turned into a cat.
This happened once before: about 15 years ago I dreamt I was making out with Kirstie Alley -- she was wearing a blue dress of mine, and she was lying on a hospital gurney -- and as I was kissing her, she turned into a cat.
Why aren't more of my dreams lucid, with shit like this happening in them? C'mon! I've only dreamt lucidly three times, and two of the times I knew I was dreaming because in one dream I was Kurt Cobain and in the other I was Clint Eastwood. (Deep down, I must have really known I wasn't those people.)