Dreams can only last milliseconds. I discovered this while I was a student on Piston Provosts at Ternhill in 1956. While enjoying a lie-in on a sunny Sunday morning I dreamed I was in a spin and the controls were not reacting as the Provost descended rapidly out of control. A sharp pain shot through my head when it hit the ground before I woke up to find a half squashed wasp on the pillow and a painful sting on the back of my neck. My brain must have concocted a story between being stung by the wasp and waking up.