Dreams are bastards. In fact, they're bastard-coated-bastards with bastard filling.
For the past three frakkin' nights, I've had R-based dreams in which either 1) W and I fight in really angry ways looking for the most hurtful things to say to the other, 2) We reconcile, or 3) All the bad stuff never happened.
Unfortunately, not having any control over what my subconcious decides to broadcast, the "stop sign" technique and the like aren't that helpful. An hour or so to shake the remnants of the dreams works, but does that hour or so ever suck.
