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Remember those times? She’d be on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness, but in the grip of sex, of coming from a dream. Her thighs would tense, tense, and then release, bliss seeping from between her legs, then she’d slip immediately into sleep, with only a brief moment of lucidity tinting the half-awake knowledge that she’d come from a dream. It’s happened more than once, and seemed like the tiniest of miracles to her when she remembered it, her thumb pressed to her lips, a secret memory, delicious, naughty and sweet.