I've always been impressed by my level of English in my dreams. And I'm French, French people are bad at foreign languages. I used to think that if I could speak it so well without searching for words as I did in real life, then deep down in my brain I had everything I needed to be an excellent English speaker!
But last night I was in New York, in the cinema of a luxury hotel, and Peter Falk was sitting in front of me, waiting for the start of a screening of an Inspector Columbo episode. I approached him a little too quickly and he was afraid I was going to steal his baseball cap from the back of the adjoining seat. Trying to put on a brave face, I asked him, in perfect English, what time the session started.
He replied that it started at 19h30. I went and sat down further away so that he wouldn't feel bothered any more.
Then I woke up, congratulating myself on speaking English so well! And also a little sad to have left New York City and its nice green hills so abruptly.
But something wasn't right and I finally understood what it was: Peter should have said the time like 7:30 (half past seven), not 19:30 (nineteen thirty) as we do in Europe.
My theory is that I'm speaking French in my dreams but I think I'm speaking English, there's something going on in my dream just to make me think I am. That's a weird thing.
And I'm a bit disappointed.