At some point near the end of Styles’ 35-minute bedtime story, I felt myself begin to grow sleepy, focusing on the tonality of his voice and the calming music soundtracking it, rather than the scenes he was painting. I was starting to fall asleep, and then he uttered the pornographic phrase, “the tenderness we feel when we are close, two minds as one, surrounds us and connects us, for we have only just begun.” Begun “what,” sir? So much of “Dream With Me” is Harry Styles fan fiction and very much worth some sort of visual component, though I recognize the goal is not to get hot and bothered for sweet Styles, but to have his silky speaking voice lull you to dreamland. In a perfect world, it does both. And if it doesn’t, the seduction is a fine ride, too.

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