I dreamed of a planet of Sixes (and other Cylon models). Oddly, they weren’t reproducing (due to a bad experience with a genetic defect in one of the first Sixes to have a child with a human), and were having other problems. There were a couple humans on their planet, including myself, but I was a fugitive and had been shot in my arm — and it was looking very unlikely that I’d be able to get any medical attention. I looked like Apollo. And there were clones of me, so despite being a fugitive I could sometimes hide in plain sight if I put on different affectations. The Sixes were of different ages, which was interesting because they had different levels of experience and confidence (not like on the show, where they all appeared to be the same age).
I ran across two other humans. One was musician Stuart Davis, who had apparently gone mad at some point during his decades of servitude to the Cylons. And one was a music engineer. In the dream Stuart had grown a shaggy beard, which I know is unlikely in real life. And he still sang, but mostly to himself, and it may have been muttering more than singing. Cylons not the best audience apparently.