I dreamed of George R.R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones. Except I’ve never read the book or seen the TV series adaptation, so my mind filled in all of the blanks. But in the dream, this is how the book was.
There were a group of fantasy late-medieval/early-Renaissance kingdoms constantly intriguing against each others. These kingdoms existed within contemporary Europe, but somehow the people of Europe and the people of the fantasy kingdoms remained largely unaware of each other. And the lands of the fantasy kingdoms were much larger than the space in Europe that they occupied.
The story followed two groups of characters. One group was led by an exiled nobleman of one of the kingdoms. He was accompanied by his young page and an exiled nobleman from another family. They wandered the kingdoms, looking for a way to get back into the noble intrigue and regain their status. The other group of characters were refugees from the modern world who were mysteriously unable to recall where they were from or why they were refugees. They wandered the back roads of Europe, looking for clues as to where they were from and where they were going. They were led by a determined woman in her late-30s/early-40s. The exiled nobles constantly skirted the edges of the kingdoms, coming close to modern Europe. The refugees skirted the edges of modern Europe, coming close to the fantasy kingdoms. And sometimes in the dream, I was reading the book, flipping to the back to look at the list of characters and the beautiful maps of Europe and the fantasy kingdoms. If you looked at the maps long enough, they would move.
The dream ended before either group found what they were looking for.