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I suppose the dreams must have resulted from the stress of the evening preceding them, but Stephan and I both had rather strange ones.
In his, I had been telling him for a long time that there was going to be a terrorist attack on the Hilton across the street. He begged me to tell him how I knew, but I was protecting someone, and he understood that. At last, I told him it was the day, and he knew he had to get out of the area, so he frantically piled friends into his car and went to the IHoP in Bellaire, and lo, when they returned the hotel was in rubble. He was terrified that they were going to suspect him because he knew beforehand, and he was so stressed and confused he ended up sleeping with a straight guy he otherwise would never have considered (even in dream logic).
In my dream, which occurred during a minute-long doze in the huge grey armchair before I actually went to bed on the big couch, it was almost like real life. The plumbing crisis was over, Stephan had gone to bed, and Ben was wandering around the apartment in his boxers. It became apparent, through my ESP in the dream, that Stephan had gone into a coma, and would not come out of it until summer. We couldn't go in to see him, or he might die, because of the nature of the light that our eyes reflected onto him (physics and anatomy were both part of my expertise). Bryan and I decided to tell all Stephan's professors he was bedridden but still conscious. In the most horrifying moment of any dream I've had, Ben walked in on me and Bryan writing Stephan's papers for the year. We were trying so hard to emulate his distinctively pompous, slightly Anglically awkward style that we didn't notice Ben had come in on our most clandestine and illegal of operations.
I might mention that, before I remembered the dream fully, I knew we'd been caught doing something we weren't supposed to be doing, but the only prohibited activity I could come up with on the same mental order of magnitude was building a nuke to sell to Al-Qaeda. On the couch.
In his, I had been telling him for a long time that there was going to be a terrorist attack on the Hilton across the street. He begged me to tell him how I knew, but I was protecting someone, and he understood that. At last, I told him it was the day, and he knew he had to get out of the area, so he frantically piled friends into his car and went to the IHoP in Bellaire, and lo, when they returned the hotel was in rubble. He was terrified that they were going to suspect him because he knew beforehand, and he was so stressed and confused he ended up sleeping with a straight guy he otherwise would never have considered (even in dream logic).
In my dream, which occurred during a minute-long doze in the huge grey armchair before I actually went to bed on the big couch, it was almost like real life. The plumbing crisis was over, Stephan had gone to bed, and Ben was wandering around the apartment in his boxers. It became apparent, through my ESP in the dream, that Stephan had gone into a coma, and would not come out of it until summer. We couldn't go in to see him, or he might die, because of the nature of the light that our eyes reflected onto him (physics and anatomy were both part of my expertise). Bryan and I decided to tell all Stephan's professors he was bedridden but still conscious. In the most horrifying moment of any dream I've had, Ben walked in on me and Bryan writing Stephan's papers for the year. We were trying so hard to emulate his distinctively pompous, slightly Anglically awkward style that we didn't notice Ben had come in on our most clandestine and illegal of operations.
I might mention that, before I remembered the dream fully, I knew we'd been caught doing something we weren't supposed to be doing, but the only prohibited activity I could come up with on the same mental order of magnitude was building a nuke to sell to Al-Qaeda. On the couch.