That was incredible. I've literally just woken up from what was the most vivid dream I've ever had - and it was so good I'm going to blog it.

IT began with my uncle deciding to take us all to the brazillian GP. It was the last of the season, and had little riding on it. With the wonderful bending of the space-time sontinuum that is available to dreamers, we got a big black coach there. The wall to the granstand from the outside of the track looked like a big hotel - with rooms and balconies hanging off it and people getting changed.

Further out from the grandstand, the area seemed to morph into something resembling an airport terminal, with huge walkways and crossings for pedestrians. There were very few people left outside as there were only 15 minutes to go until the race started.

As a big publicity stunt, the FIA had adopted a similar style to Le Mans for this race - in that there would be a change of driver for each pitstop, and each car must make at least two pitstops. That's three drivers. As is the custom, the seats were auctioned off and my uncle managed to get a seat in McClaren. As I was late walking through the entrace, a dark-haired and incredibly sexy female representative from "Sierra Nevada," which was a fantasy name, came to me and said their auction-seat driver was not available, and could I take his place as I was approximately the same size.

The next thing I know I'm out on the track, and as this is a small team, managed to get the car from 16th place (after taking over from the aptly named driver Alan Balls) to 6th place. It was great, but then my tyres died and I headed into the pit stop, to be usurped by some Brazilian - however I had earned my reputation. I was still pretty anonymous at this point, as some other driver was meant to have been driving - but before I could tell anyone it was me, I had to go and get weighed and be put through a de-briefing period where they analysed my driving. Some people had flagged me up as driving recklessly - but the senior steward quashed their judgement on the basis that I'd been in full control and had managed to life the car ten places. I was ecstatic.

I went outside to cool off, and that dark-haired lady came to talk to me, and there was a guy who looked like an Italian "Sean Bean" with her. She started talking to me about how impressed she was with my driving - and said that I was good enough to have a place on the team for next season. Sierra Nevada were adopting a three man team, with the promise of at least 3 hours each over a weekend in the cockpit. It seemed like a dream come true.

She took me to the team HQ (which were right next to some nice oak panelled doors which headed to the toilets (and the toilets had one way glass in one wall so you could see into the office, but for some reason I didn't take advantage of that in the dream). I sat outside for what seemed like an eternity. My uncle walked past to ask what I was doing - so I broke the news to him. As he'd been driving McClaren, he's been in 4th place - so our paths never crossed. He'd driven well, and managed to only drop one place since Hamilton put him in 4rd for their pitstop.

The dark-haired lady then came out and apologised to me, saying that I'd driven a phenomenal race, but her promise of team-racing was naive - the boss had already picked a third person that she wasn't aware of. The dream started becoming stretched now as I spoke to a few family members about the disappointment. Everyone was gutted.

The dark-haired woman and I then ended up going on a trip to discuss my future. She apologised about building my hopes up and then not being able to substantiate her claims. We spoke about how she had a scar on her calf which was exactly the same as mine of my leg from the car accident I was in a few years back. Her scar behaved very much in the same way to mine - but was a little bit more round and delicate - as befitted the woman.

In another twist of the old space-time continuum, I was then at my desk - and decided to google "Andy Loughran F1" when a half-finished article came up. It was written by the dark-haired woman, and she was lauding my efforts in the car. The next article made some sort of mention about me driving for Sierra next season... it was then that my Dad and my brother ran through the door. Dad had a pink piece of paper and was shouting 9%, whereas John was saying "If there's a star by his name he's become a driver" - evidently in my dream all F1 stars got a star by their name to signify that they'd become a driver.

Sure enough, there it was on the page. My name and a star by it - I turned round to see the dark-haired woman walk through the door - and a big smile across her face. However, I sensed something was wrong.

The reason that I was taking another persons place was due to him having a skiing accident (where he was earlier in the story) and breaking his leg. Luckily it wasn't a bad accident - but would put him out for the season - therefore I was his replacement.

Just then, the phone rang.. and it woke me up.

weird.