Two men, like beat poets of the 50's, are traveling and I am a reporter who comes to interview them. He tells me about their life. How they are free as birds and only have relationships with women who know the rules. It's only short-term, sex and drugs, going from one woman to the next, no commitments. A young, dark-haired woman comes up to him. He's in the pickup getting ready to drive on to the next place. She has a paper to be autographed and asks to come along. He pulls out a dictionary to look up the words to say to explain the rules to her, like she speaks a different language. He explains, pointing to the words in a dictionary. She smiles and speaks plain English, agreeing with the rules. She'll do anything to be able to be with them for a while. Now the other man, more flambuoyant, isn't there and the one man is driving and I'm in the passenger side, talking to him, still interviewing. But now the man asks me quietly and with feeling what I'm really doing here. Why do I go around interviewing people? I say, "Searching, trying to find someone who is truly unique." I say, "I can't find anyone because they might have unique qualities on the psychological level, like different life experiences and different parental values etc., but deep down, we are all the same. No one is unique." I smile at him and say, "You can imagine how intrigued I was by you," and I curl around him, in a hug. He thinks, as I lay my hand down near his lap, that I am about to perform manual sex and starts to automatically get ready to receive it, but then he realizes I am just hugging and cuddling and nervously asks if I want ___ a drug like cocaine. I smile and say no. I say, "I thought you were the one, but, no. I see you are not. You are the same as everyone." He smiles in recognition, sadly. "You can imagine how thrilled I am to hear this," he says. I smile. He gently places his hands over my breasts, on top of my shirt. It's a sexy gesture because you would expect him to try to fondle the breasts to get me excited, but he doesn't, he just gently pats me there. I put my hands over his in a touching gesture, and pat his hands. It's sweet, poignant and sexy. I feel a sensual pleasure. This is impossible and we both know it. I see the dirt mountainous road we are on, off in the wilderness alone. It narrows and I see ahead of us a brick wall, like a fireplace in a living room and bushes in the road. We slow down and stop. We neither of us move, because it would break the magic spell. I want us to continue getting closer. The moment freeze-frames and I wake up, feeling sweet and sad, and wanting something.