A Victorian steampunk professor has invented a TARDIS, but each time the power goes out, it replicates a local cat. The same local cat. After multiple power failures, a horde of these tiny tabbies roam the streets, crawling through the gerberas and lounging on the cars, chasing field mice and scratching upholstery. They are, in their defense, friendly little copycats.
We, N and me, head to the shopping mall, a vast and soulless contemporary Crystal Palace, a big box made of glass. N's in a hurry, because she either has her period and isn't prepared or she seriously has to shit. She's worried that the power will go out again and she won't be able to see her way to the loo. I've lost count of the kitties.
Suddenly I'm watching a movie. It features the professor from earlier in the dream, his chisel-featured son, and the estranged wife and mother, who is Mrs. Olsen from Little House on the Prairie. The TARDIS somehow contributes to the transformation of the Perfect Fish into a blond mermaid. Mrs. Olsen falls into a pool, much to the amusement of the nineteenth-century folk she has annoyed. The mermaid saves her, though when it steps onto land it's some kind of humanoid seal/lion creature. Mrs. Olsen reconciles with her husband, the sea lion becomes a woman, maybe the young Daryl Hannah. She's clearly going to be the son's love interest, and they all head off to explore steampunk Africa.