But before I was awake enough to even consider getting up and writing it, I remembered only the beginning (and the changed version of that, too).
It was originally about St Anthony or some very well-known saint like that, set in a swamp, and when I told it to Spouse I said I was worried that my story would conflict with the canon and he suggested using one of the numerous unknown early-medieval vagrant saints, latter-day John the Baptists in animal skins with a staff. I thought that was a good idea, and started writing, and then Spouse said “why not let him spawn from two toads?” I explored that for a bit, but then realised that the story I wanted to tell needed the saint to be human. Figuring out how exactly the toads would be involved (because I did want them to be involved) took so much brain CPU that I completely lost the rest of the story, even inside the dream.
And now I’ve mostly forgotten the rest of the dream which was just as interesting: a bath in a huge otherwise empty room; a pharmacy where they sold a worm cure made from skin flakes of cute baby dragons (it literally said “cute baby dragons” on the package) that dropped off when they grew, so no cute baby dragons were killed for it.