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If I had a dream catcher, I'm pretty sure it would die of sheer exhaustion. There are too many psychotic dream factors to filter through any size "web." Trust me, as someone who remembers just about all of her dreams, this is true.
In fact, Carter told me about an App for my phone that could help interpret dreams and their meanings. I think I broke the App today. I know I definitely stymied it, at the very least.
If I were to write a book about my "unique" dreams, today's chapter would be entitled: "A funny thing happened on the way to the Peter Frampton concert..." – starring an odd mix of characters: hubby, his high school classmate and friend Gregg, and our mutual friend and previous co-worker Jeff. (With a significant cameo by Carter, who somehow scored a backstage pass).
Yup. My mind is a mysterious thing!
And the App was not having anything to do with Peter Frampton. Even for me, that one is hard to interpret.
Typically, the only '70s stars of MY dreams are Erik Estrada and, yes, even more Erik Estrada.
May you have sweet dreams tonight! One of us has to!
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