Maybe I Should Skip Sleep More Often

I just stayed up all night again so I took a short nap (or rather I accidentally dozed off.) I had a dream. At first, I am in the Mass Effect universe, thrust into the middle of a firefight on some godforsaken fuel station wielding nothing but a pistol and my wits. Next thing I know, I've teamed up with a malien (and a delicious one at that), and we're kicking ass and taking names in that epic sort of way that only takes place in dreamland. There's screaming and running and crushed glass crunching underneath my feet, but we escape the krogan and his vorcha henchmen via some sketchy, vacant alleyway; when we're sure we've lost them, we lose ourselves in a fit of unrestrained laughter. Of course in dreamworld, that is a cue for sexytime. Against the wall. While the scary mercenary gang is still at large. James Kirk had the right idea.

Cue next sequence:

I'm in the same fuel station, but no merc gang rampaging the streets this time. Instead, I'm in a seedy nightclub downing shots from dirty glasses as the live band plays shitty original music. I sit there, bored. And then she appears right in front of me, and I'm not surprised. I've been expecting her. I've been waiting for her. (always, always.) She pulls me onto the floor for a dance, and we move as fluidly as two semi-drunk people can in time to the song, which had shifted to a slow jam at some point I can't remember. I close my eyes and feel the strobe lights flicker across my eyelids, like tickling, like butterflies landing. Suddenly, there's a warm--no HOT--heavy pressure on my right breast, and I open my eyes, gaze down, and see a hand indeed covering my right breast. The hand belongs to her. These fingers splayed on my body belong to her. I turn around, and we smolder at each other before leaning in.

I can't decide which dream I want to redo. And no, I can't have both.