Rose Walker: "Say, whoever you are. Do you know what Freud said about dreams of flying? It means you're really dreaming about having sex."
Morpheus: "Indeed? Tell me, what does it mean when you dream about having sex?"
- The Sandman, Vol.2, The Doll's House

'Twas the night before my Contract Law exam at King's College London, and I was in bed, my head whirling with cases and statutes, rescission for misrepresentation was slowly doing the Dance of the Seven Veils while the cases of With v. O'Flanagan, Barton v. Armstrong and Atlas v. KAFCO Imports looked on and the Unfair Contract Terms Act 1977 applied the smackdown to exclusion clauses liberally, and promissory estoppel was not creating causes of action. And so I slept, and dreamt.

I very rarely get any good sleep the night before the first exam, and last night was no exception. When, at about 4am, I finally managed to drop off, for some inexplicable reason, my brain started to throw up even more weirdness than it usually does in my dreams.

What happened was this - I was in the mathematics block of my old secondary school, the Royal Grammar School, High Wycombe, at about 2pm. The room was totally and utterly empty other than myself, who was sitting on a barstool from the bar in the basement of my halls of residence. And in bowled a girl of eighteen or so who I knew was my lady friend at the time (even though I haven't a girl IRL at the moment.) She was moderately tall, slim but large-breasted and wore a tight black sweater and a tartan skirt; if you will, she looked rather like Charlie, the victim in the old Channel 4 serial Killer Net. (Please don't ask.) Oh, and no underwear. So, in the dream, she extracted my mickey and slipped in a female condom (Again, don't ask; I've never known anyone who used that as their preferred method of contraception, so I'm in no place to comment really, but it must be like pronging a plastic bag.) and in one fluid motion, flipped up her skirt and leapt onto me.

Yes, I had a dream about surreptitiously doing it while balanced on a barstool in a classroom.

Oh wait, it got better. Then in marched friends of mine from college who passed through the room without batting an eyelid that I and this mystery woman (whose name I somehow knew to be Heather or Hannah or something beginning with H) were going at it like rabbits in broad daylight.

And then I woke up.

(Incidentally, this dream was not wet.)

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