I dreamed that I had written a novel with two other people (unknown to me now), and that I had forgotten about it until we all started discussing it.  As we talked, detail after detail came back to my mind vividly.  They eventually had to go, and I was distressed because (as I told them) if we could just talk a little longer then I'd be able to remember the entire book.  Remembrance of the story gave me tremendous joy.  Though our project was a book, the memories of the story were very visual (like a graphic novel or comic book), and it was similar to reconstructing a movie in one's mind.   I must have been somewhat lucid, because a part of me hoped to be able to remember the whole thing so as to be able to reconstruct it upon waking up.  I also wondered (somewhat suspiciously) if the book wasn't actually a bunch of nonsense--the sort of thing that makes sense in the dream world but that would translate as gibberish were I to transcribe it upon waking.  I willed myself to have a photographic memory of the story just in case it really was as good and sensical as it was in the dream world.