We were living in the MOST ENORMOUS HOUSE, which was ours, we owned it and it had a huge kitchen with a massive bay window in which could be seen an old-fashioned butler's sink, and we were in the garden which consisted of rolling lawns ending in a haha which led to the cornfields beyond. I had no idea where it was but it looked to me like Oxfordshire.
Into this impressive idyll interjected the terrible news that I had failed my French exam - miserably. I was understandably perturbed because academic success and godliness are almost synonymous, of course.
I tried to understand what had gone wrong, but instead woke up into the much happier real world where we live in a modest rented flat and where the results of my exam will not be published for two weeks.