How is it possible that, after a totally ordinary dull winter day, gone by without reading an English paper or blog, without listening to BBC radio or watching an English movie, one wakes up in the middle of the pitch dark Dutch winter night (3.45 a.m.) with an astonishing clear dream in one’s head, picturing an old English cottage, where one stands in the sunny flower garden to greet the owners and tell them that you are ready to buy their house? How is it, that in the palm of one’s right hand one can still feel the cold, distant hand of the wife who has decided to sell but cannot wholeheartedly welcome the buyer? How is it that one vividly remembers asking her how far it is to London (‘Five hours drive,’ she says) and how far to the sea (‘Three hours drive,’ she says), offering one the possibility to jump out of bed, open up Google Maps and get into the car to find the spot?! And, most importantly, how is it possible that this phenomenal brain of us copies the hemisphere by installing billions of stars in our head, each star containing a story, an image, a memory, an experience, a fear or a deep and hidden desire, all in a dream? Wow!