I dreamed I was Geralt. I knew I was Geralt because there was a bit where I was obsessing over my steel sword / silver sword choices and my alchemical loadout.

The gameplay had a tutorial level in which the player has fully-upgraded skills and equipment, like Assassin's Creed 1 or Dragon Age II. Obviously after that, one is demoted in the Assassin's ranks for bungling up a key mission, or Varric admits that he'd be exaggerating a bit in the narration, and one starts back at level 1, (re)learning skills and (re)acquiring equipment. So as Geralt of Rivia, I was assaulting the castle of a vampire lord - which looked a lot like my neighbour's house on Halloween, but bigger, but walked into an ambush and was captured.

Then I was breaking out of the dungeon, slaying the undead left and right with a salvaged fireplace poker (why do vampires need fireplaces?). I knelt down to loot a fallen ghoul-boss and realized that he was carrying a silver sword. MY silver sword. I happily added it to the armory sticking out of my back and promptly woke up. Ugh.