When I woke up this morning, I was dreaming about visiting my Spanish friend, Estefanía, in Lanzarote. The stupid thing is that she is not even from Lanzarote: she is from Tenerife. She is also living in England.

I went to Lanzarote with Yu Lee, and I'm pretty sure there was at least on other person travelling with us, possibly my brother, Bob. When we got there we waited for Estefanía and it was raining. I remember thinking "Every time I come to Lanzarote it rains" which is not true as I've been there once (as an adult) and it was sunny the whole time.

When we met Estefanía she took us to her parents' house, but then she had to go an do something so she left us there. In the meantime her mum and brothers arrived at the house. I went to the hallway to greet them.

"Hola."

Her mum looked at me and smiled and replied "Hola."

Then I came back into the living room, and her brothers came in too. There were loads of them and they were all very young.

"Hola." I said again, this time her youngest brother replied in perfect English.

"Hi. We don't really speak Spanish, we prefer to speak English."

"¿Por qué?" I asked. "Why?"

"Porque (because) it's a more useful language than Spanish." (or words to that effect)

Later Estefanía arrived and I went outside with her, and we were alone in the garden. I told her (in Spanish) that I thought it was strange that her brothers didn't speak any Spanish.

That's the last thing I remember before waking up.

Another weird thing about this dream is that the island didn't look at all like Lanzarote: it was green and forested, with English style buildings and no mountains anywhere.