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over 40 and horney dating Yakhniqol Whew! As we all know, lesbians, like cats, are inherently psychic; and so for this reason I have decided to post an account of my dream last night in hopes some of you might interpret it. ;) The short version: I fell eight stories down an elevator shaft and landed safely. The version: I was in a hotel and went to an elevator bank that said, "Elevator Outbound." (How Wonka is that? And Bostonians recognize the word 'Outbound' from the subway, which is weird, cause I seldom take the subway.) I get in. Elevator normal in appearance, but then I realize there are no floors. I start to fall. And when I fall I feel my body increase in speed unlike my other falling dreams, in which I am floating or rotating as I fall downward. I think, 'I've got to move to lessen velocity.' So I start to kick my legs; I start to reach out to the sides of the elevator in hopes of touching the wall to further slow my descent, eventually placing my hands briefly on this or that panel to slow myself. The stop-action movements seem to work, but I am still falling speedily. Suddenly the POV changes. I am not looking to the side or down, but now have an aerial view of myself. I that I am approaching the bottom. So I kick my legs out to if I can bounce off the small walls of the elevator. This, and the action of my hands, gets me into a bouncing mode. I'm worried about breaking my ankles, so then I start kicking the way I do when I swim flutter, flutter. And I land. I am entirely fine. I get up and I two people. One of them hands me a wad of cash and says, 'This is yours if you don't tell anyone about the weapons in the elevator.' I said, 'What's your anme? '-, but it's really.' Said I, 'Oh, I have two names, too.'" Then some woman came over and said, "Was that you who fell eight stories? I can't believe you're alive." End of dream.
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