Two nights ago I was awake in the middle of the night, because I had been up with the baby, and I came to this sudden and complete awareness that I had received a prophetic revelation from Apollo and Artemis. But I was groggy and sleepy, and when I woke up the next morning, I could not remember what this revelation actually was. I still can’t.
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Sailing to Byzantium 
Ah the troublesomeness of dreams. I just bounced over to your site (thank the Gods) and as a Mormon ex-pat, I feel a kinship. (Just re-read my post before submitting it. Sorry for the crazy length)
To the topic at hand. Dreams are one of the two oldest forms of ancient Greek divination (the second being enthusiasm) and has a long and important history.
Cicero states that the Stoic Chrysippus wrote at least one book on divination though dreams. The whole idea is based around the Stoic belief in sympatheia, that force that pervades the cosmos and knits it together. That being the case, your dream is not lost (especially if it was a message from the Gods), but is still echoing harmoncially through the cosmos.
What you may want to do is re-attune yourself to the cosmos. (I just cringed at my own new-age tone there). I am singer so forgive the constant allusions to music.
Right. Attunement. I mentioned that dreams were one of the two oldest methods. Try not to ‘remember’, rather re-visit the scene of your vision through mediation, trance, guided fantasy, whatever floats your dinghy.
If I might be so bold as to suggest a beginning to your vision quest. This is a method I have used with great success. Get a pen and paper (your journal is best) to write down your experience as soon as you come out of it… I would suggest (since like me you are a follower of Apollo) that you envision yourself standing before the Temple at Delphi.
…..
You stand before the mighty columns that face the Holy Temple. Helios is riding high in the sky, while behind you throng the people either coming down from the Dionysian Theater above, or up from the Temple of Athena below. You can smell the sacrifices burning on the huge altar behind you, and the smell of incense pours from the dark entrance of the temple. On either side of the entrance are two huge pillars, atop which sit the offering of bronze statues given by grateful querents.
You begin walking up the staircase to the ceiling high double bronze doors, which slowly open to admit you. As you step across the threshold of the Temple, the massive doors close slowly and silently behind you. The sounds of the faithful slowly diminish, until you hear a quiet click as the doors shut completely and the silence decends like a blanket.
You eyes slowly adjust to the gloom, and you see dust drifting through the dim shafts of light that penetrate the gloom at regular intervals. Individual sounds begin to be discernible, and you can hear the trickling of water nearby, of a stream running under the Temple. You can see statues of young men at the sides of the temple standing between the pillars. The smell of incense is stronger now, mixed with the scent of laurel and water. Your senses fill with the weight of presence around you.
You take a step forward.
From the darkness, a voice fills the temple, surrounds you and echoes through your ears and mind.
‘You have come…’ The voice is that of a young girl, larger than the universe, but quiet and full. Over her voice is another, a man’s voice, wrapping and enfolding the child in its arms.
‘You have come. I am here.’ The sense of the presence of the God is palpable. It is almost too large for the immense interior of the temple. You are grateful for the darkness that stands between you and the blazing reality of diety.
‘What do you seek?’ The question is not challenging, but interested, caring. You feel the strength behind the goodness in this voice. You are safe, knowing with a certainty that this where you are meant to be at this very time.
Gathering what little courage you have left, you form your question in your mind. You quieltly speak. The sound of your voice is small and echoes throughout the chamber.
Then out from the gloom to your right steps a figure. It is a young man, whom you took for a statue.
‘Sit with me,’ he says quietly, as he folds his legs beneath him. He waits silently while you join him on the cool marble floor.
‘It is an interesting question’ he says to you, looking into the darkness as if to think of a response. ‘Why do you ask?’
And the conversation continues…