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I am sitting at home in my bedroom, and into my room comes Ben and his friend John. I close the door to the foyer of my room, and both guys, both straightlaced types really, begin searching the internet for pornography. I figure something is wrong here. But I try to pay no heed to what is going on. Ben and I are sitting in one corner of my room in a highly secluded area from the rest of the room (or so it seems in this dream) as John ogles over these hefty 250 lb. beauties on the internet. Occasionally, we'll ask him how he is enjoying it, and he will cast back a huge exaggerated thumbs up, almost sarcastic. Ben and I both stand up from sitting on the floor, and I get this weird premonition that my dad's girlfriend and my 40-year-old female neighbor are waltzing in the foyer. The door, to them, is this translucent penetrable material that they slide through. And it is their utmost concern to spy on us, because neither of them believes we are up to any good.
We build this large castle out of adobe and we hide inside it. He asks me if I'm going to recite any more poetry to him. So I start to recite Meeting At Night by Robert Browning, which I wasn't even aware that I had memorized up until this dream. He asks me if I'll learn the counterpoem and recite it the next time I have a dream about him. I ask him what he means by that, as I am not aware that I am in a dream. But he never answers. So I'm sitting there in silence.And John says something loudly from the computer that places me in a bold position and my entire confidence strikes me as unatural and I lean over and I kiss him. But for some reason, our large adobe castle seems to hide nothing from the waltzing dunces in the foyer, and I begin to slip into a lucid dream, and I know for some reason, that I will wake up at any minute now, and I recall thinking to myself, "Oh well, better make this worthwhile..." so I kiss him again. And I woke up.