A whole series of semi-connected fragments.
Most of it centered around a stage play being directed by my friend from high school, Ed. I believe it had been adpated by him from one or more other works, with additional material and such. We were rehearsing some portions of it, and watching a movie on which other parts of it were based.
The movie was about World War II, and the conflict between a crew of American sailors and a Japanese sub crew. We only watched part of the film, and all I can remember about the part we watched was a scene in which one of the Americans and one of the Japanese were tied up, side by side, for some reason, as if some third party was punishing both sides. They were hurling curses at each other in their own languages, and then the American shouted something in Japanese which translated along the lines of, "May your dishonor earn you a high place in Hell." And the Japanese soldier replied in two words of English, heavy with bitterness and spite: "Yes, sir." I thought it was the coolest thing ever.
I think later in the film, the two crews were locked in combat in the middle of a storm and both the destroyer and the sub were wrecked because of their obsessiveness. The crews are thus stranded on the island, mostly unequipped, nobody looking for them, totally lost and dependant on each other for survival. And the hatred between the two groups eventually dissolves into respect and camaraderie as they find that, together, they are far more capable than either force was alone. I also think the film ended in some really horrid way, like the Americans or the Japanese show up to rescue the group and everyone on the island ends up killing themselves because they refuse to go back to their war. But we didn't watch that part, and I have no idea how any of this film could have been translated onto stage.
So then we were working on the play some more, and there was one scene we were rehearsing and Ed had blocked too many people onto the stage at once. So we were working out how to rearrange things, and how to get some people offstage early enough to make room.
One of the people in the cast was a girl, who played the primary female protagonist, who I'd known for years (since we'd been children). She was several years younger than I was, and she'd always been this little brat. But now, fifteen years later, she was mature and intelligent and beautiful, but I didn't see that at first.
Later, after one of the rehearsals, she and I were at her folks' place. I liked her folks a lot, and always had. They lived in a really nice house which sat in the middle of an artificial pond. The basement level, below the waterline, had lots of windows out into the pond so that it was like being in the Monterey Aquarium or something. They had very little animal life, and no plant life, in the pond yet. I asked them why it was all concrete and barren. The mom told me they'd tried to sculpt a sand pond but when they'd been doing the landscaping, the county had been doing some major road grade work nearby and the huge sand trucks (she had some odd term for them, which I don't recall, but it wasn't a normal word and it made perfect sense at the time) had kept driving through their pond and squashing all their careful landscaping, so they'd just put concrete over everything.
I suggested that they try it again, now that the county was finished with their work, and try layering their dunes and such. She agreed that it would be a much nicer view if there were some terrain, and plantlife, and real animals living in the pond.
And then I was talking with the girl again, and I was starting to notice how much she'd grown up. She wanted to show me some of her art and photography, including a series of self-portraits she'd done. I woke up about that point, but I have a suspicion that the self-portraits were going to be of a highly erotic nature.
Aside from Ed, as the director of the play, nobody in the dream was anyone real, or even that closely related to anyone in real life. I don't even think I ever knew any of their names.