One of life’s great mysteries

About 4:30am I wake with a hard on.
Standard operating procedure.
I’d been dreaming about sex.
Still nothing unusual.
The dream had been about my Wife and me.
The better kind, though simultaneously one of the more frustrating kinds.

We were sat at a table examining the contents of something much like a biscuit tin. It had the same flimsy plastic layer trays as a biscuit tin, with shaped recessed for each of its contents. These, however, were not biscuits. They were small, multi-coloured sex toys. Dildos, butt plugs, rabbit vibes, strap-ons, handcuffs, all striped in a vibrant rainbow of colours.

It was only two days later that it hit me. I have often heard discussion of whether we dream in colour. I’ve never known whether I do or not. Now I know.

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