Sex dream

I had a sex dream last night. A surprise. I haven't had one in well over a decade and at my age, sixty-one, it's unlikely I'll ever have another. It didn't cause an emission but I've never had any that do, even in adolescence, and since having my prostate gland destroyed by radiation last spring emissions are an impossibility anyway. 
The girl in the dream was young but so was I—both legs, hair. She wasn't someone I've ever known. We'd been staying someplace warm as friends and on this, our last day together, she was putting out signals so obvious that even I, notably dense about such things, couldn't ignore them. She was on my right side. We were seated. She pressed herself against me. I reciprocated. We talked, laughed. Our faces drew close. We kissed. (I haven't kissed anyone for five years, when I had a brief relationship with a woman, and I haven't had sex successfully in this century. I have never had a girlfriend.) The kisses became long and open mouthed, both tongues fully articulating. It felt very real and detailed. Her breathing became more intense. Her hot breaths felt pleasant on my neck and face. She writhed against me. 
As this was happening, I began to think of our future together. Eating out in restaurants, phone calls, texts, emails. The constant need to tell someone where you are and what you're doing and making sure to show interest in where they are and what they're doing. This echoed my thoughts in real life, and it's likely the reason I've pushed women who've gotten close to me away, except for the last one; she dumped me for reasons not given. 
I don't assign great meaning to dreams, as others do. They're neurological events that are triggered by and reflect what may be going on in a person's life, but the known instances of them revealing any great solutions are rare and the ones of them predicting the future are even rarer and don't hold up. You'll hear, at times, about a person having a dream that the plane to be taken the next day crashes. The person doesn't get on the flight because of this and, sure enough, the plane crashes. But scratch below the surface and you'll find that that person had great anxiety about flying. And, of course, many thousands of people have identical dreams, get on the planes anyway, and the flight lands safely. 
If my dream last night predicted a future, it sure isn't mine. Unless, that is, a fountain of youth has been discovered and I have access to it.

The Loser has a Dream

When you're at work or someplace else where you're trapped with people and the person next to you says, "I had the most interesting dream last night," you brace yourself for the most boring conversation of the day.
Listening to someone else's dream is like finding a page of an amateur's fiction that fell out from the middle of the tattered ring binder he carries with him everywhere. It has no beginning, middle, or end. There is no plot and the descriptions are poor.
Now you get to hear about a dream the Complete and Total Loser had a few nights ago, one of those rare dreams that lingered for days.
Simply put, it was that a woman liked him. A great woman, the kind he sees but never meets. One of those women you keep looking at to see if she has all her limbs or is horribly scarred from a fire or eventually says something batshit crazy. But she never does, in the Loser's dream, and she was so relaxed and funny, much more so than the Loser that when he woke up it seemed impossible that his brain could have created this woman. 
Interesting, that mass of goo in our skulls, isn't it?

A woman.