I was a bike courier in early 1980s New York, getting jiggy with it to a Grand Master Flash soundtrack. I lived in an old converted loft in Brooklyn with 3 amazingly gorgeous busty Russian ‘lady-friends’ who got their kit off and got it on at nearly every opportunity.
I wish they would hurry up and invent a machine to record dreams.
I had a beautifully calibrated and almost plausible one in which my favourite trainee touched my hand and whispered “you’ve been looking at that girl all evening, and I wish you’d stop and pay me some attention”. I prefer it when they stop while I’m ahead. It’s the principal advantage of dreams over real life. 🙂