The first dream (which becomes the dream within a dream):

I'm shooting a movie.  It's completely surprising because I'm the star, picked from nowhere, and my costar, is THE totally hot famous older Scottish actor.  We have to do a scene where we dance close.  We do the scene over and over.  He obsessively fingers the dimples in my lower back and whispers things like "this is where the gold collects."  This is somehow secret from the camera.  This is the best dream ever.

I wake up (still dreaming) to find myself in a resort hotel with tons of guests, very busy.  I'm in a bathing suit, with a big canvas beachbag over my shoulder, in which I carry a painting I did to capture the feeling of the movie dream.  It's my most dear posession.  I guard it carefully.  I see the actor and his wife, they part ways.  He notices that I'm carrying this painting in my bag.  He says it's his, he painted it, that I stole it.  He does not recognize me but we contest the strange mutual artifact (the painting) that links us.

Running, with the painting in my bag, I realize that I am very late for an appointment with my mother, who has set up a resorty thing for us to do: a simultaneous bungee jump out of a helicopter over the ocean.  I'm five minutes late.  It's too late to jump.  And I'm secretly glad that I missed it.