'Mm, I thought so,' Crowley says, regarding the wine, and continues his slow circling.

'Doesn't have to be,' he shrugs. 'I mean, there's all sorts of dreams, isn't there? Dull, Dadaist, terrifying.' Crowley pauses and squints at Aziraphale. 'Don't you read any of those books of yours? Humans are constantly writing about dreams; dreams and sex and death, those are, like, the three things they're constantly preoccupied with.'

'Anyway,' he strokes over to the side of the boat and snitches Aziraphale's bottle, taking a swig, 'dreams don't usually involve more than one person, do they? Assuming that you are actually here and I'm not just dreaming you, in which case I'll agree with you; dead dull, we could just as easily have this conversation awake.'