Back when I started taking the Singulair, and I read through the scary list of potential side effects (so far the only side effect I've noticed is a slightly more frequently runny nose), "strange dreams" was one of them.
I have no idea when they say "strange" what they mean. A friend of mine who used a smoking-cessation med told me her doctor told her "strange" really was a nice euphemism for "sex dreams." Okay. Maybe. I don't know.
As I joked at the time: my dreams are already strange (I mean, garden-variety strange, not the euphemism-for-something-else "strange"), so how would I know if they got stranger?
Well, here's a snippet of a recent strange dream for me. I have no idea if it's normal-strange for me or Singulair-enhanced-strange, but it's not too far out of range of "normal strange" for me.
Somehow, I had wound up in the body of a Revolutionary War-era young man, he was a soldier, I guess (or maybe something more like a patriotic Home Guard; he was stationed in Philadelphia). He/I was walking around the town, looking at stuff. He had a brother, or maybe a cousin, with him, who was also a soldier.
The only thing in terms of dialog I remember from the dream involved us having gone off to meet Ben Franklin and having talked over some of the things he said. And the brother/cousin remarked, "Yes, well, he can get away with making jokes like that about D cups, because he's Ben Franklin. We couldn't."
Then I woke up. I suppose the situation isn't ALL that out of Franklin's character (from all I've read), but of course the reference to D cups is terribly anachronistic. (Or...I wonder, could I have dreamed that the night after I read the story about the allegedly 600-year-old linen bras found in an Austrian castle. It would be just like my brain to take that odd little snippet and try to build up a story around it somehow.
Of course, probably in Franklin's time, corsets or those stomacher-type things would have taken on the role that a bra would today...