asher and i are sitting in a sandbox in a park, like two little kids whose mothers have dropped them off there, and we're scooping up sand and dumping it in piles; normal sandbox behaviour.
we're talking about some blonde girl, but i don't actually hear us talking. instead, there's a speech/thought bubble above our heads with the smiling face of a pretty little girl with long-ish blonde hair.
a few days later i told asher about my dream.
asher: was it my cousin?
me: i don't know. how would i know? i've never met your cousin.
asher: well, i had a dream i was making out with my cousin. and i knew it was wrong, but i couldn't stop.
me: why not?
asher: well, it would have been awkward to just say, "oh, well, this is wrong."