(It starts as a harlequin romance)
Afternoon sunlight poured into the bedroom like a syrup, casting amber light across the face of Fabio, pronouncing his roman features: alabaster skin toasted almond, deep penetrating eyes and aquiline jaw. His arms were taut with the strength of carpentry, and in the Tuscan sun, each tensile motion he made toward his obedient fawn was pronounced with muscular shadows. Annabella laid supine on a bed covered in soft cottons that smelled of Freesia and human desire. She would wait for him with her body, but beckon him with her eyes.
As Fabio approached Annabella, he pulled her chest up to his face, with one motion of the hand between her shoulder blades. She moaned with her head draped back, feeling his hot breath become cool against her skin. The downy hairs on her body invisible but to Fabio now bristled awake. She lifted her head to look deep into Fabio's eyes and confirm a ready eagerness to make love. Their eyes met inches apart...
(Then, suddenly, a change of tone)
Fabio narrowed his eyes as if to warn her of the thunderous effect of his affection. As if... He kept one hand between Annabella's shoulder blades and pursed his lips, perhaps preparing to make a statement. Perhaps... He exhaled once, seemingly preparing to dive in. Seemingly...
After staring at her through several breaths, he took his other hand and wiped gently at his nose. Then he did it again. He repeated this motion several times, each time less intent on wiping away whatever was bothering his face. It looked like nothing more than a gesture.
Annabella then slowly, stutteringly lifted her hand toward her own nose, paused just before her fingertips reached her nostrils, took one more good look at Fabio, whose eyes finally dilated, whose lips curved into an approving smile. She touched her left nostril and discovered... an interruption. A sticky obtrusion. A booger.
This is the dream I had. It started out as a boner fide wet dream set in Italy, only to quickly devolve into an episode of Seinfeld. (sigh)