Last night I dreamed in French. That wouldn't have been bad, but my four years of high school French are more than forty years behind me.
I had an apartment in France (Paris?). A man dressed in a yellow striped soccer shirt invaded my apartment. I hit him with something, knocking him out. Then when I tried to convince other people in my apartment to call the police, they refused. Eventually, I opened the door and yelled for help. And while I was trying to summon assistance, he escaped out the back door.
So far, the dream was surprisingly coherent.
Then the cat ran out the door. Not my cat. Just a cat.
After that, the dream fragmented. There was a scene in a restaurant--or cafe. It mostly seemed to be about a crusty loaf of bread? Again, the entire conversation was in French.
And there was another scene when I was running down the street. Was I chasing someone? Or was I escaping from someone? I don't know. Clearly, I was in a foreign city and my internal senses identified it as a French city.
Then I woke up. What's interesting is all conversations, signs, etc., were in French. I had no problem understanding the language. And I haven't spoken or read French for many years. I've never been outside the United States. Certainly, I've never been to France. So we'll chalk this one up to some really weird subconscious stuff going on!