Later, over a quick dinner of pasta Jill whipped up from the contents of Dale’s almost-bare cabinets, he suggested, “Maybe the dream means something.”
Around a mouthful of noodles, Jill agreed. “Yeah, it means you need to get laid.”
“No.” Dale shot her an irritated look and shook his head. “I mean, maybe it was like someone telling me something. I read somewhere once that dreams can be prophetic.”
“s*x dreams aren’t prophetic.” Jill sipped at her glass of red wine and twirled another helping of pasta onto her fork. “Now, if you dreamed up some lottery numbers or something, I’d say maybe. But all a s*x dream does is release the tension building up inside of you using whoever—or whatever—is foremost in your mind. I’m surprised you didn’t add me in the dream somewhere.”
Dale grimaced at t
