Dreamt I was in a very strange little town with Ron. The cars were like amusement park Grand Prix autos only without the track: more like Flintstones only they looked like little Minis or MGs. I had to walk my silver one up a steep hill to get to the hotel. The redhead behind me was laughing as she had to do the same. Once at the hotel Ron and I were sitting on the couch in the parlor with some other guests. It seemed like we were listening to stories or something. I was dressed in a long white nightgown and a red velvet robe. Some man, and I think I know him, accosted me right there on the couch in front of everybody. I was screaming, he was laughing, and nobody seemed to care.
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Available as an ebook, soon to be released in paperback, Pottsgrove Manor and Saint Michael's Cemetery is another Pennsylvania picture...
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A crystal junkie, some of my favorites have come from India. I recently discovered Himalya Quartz on Ebay and ordered the top pink and gre...
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Sir Frankie Crisp wears Mummy's sixties costume pearls. He's not falling for the drugged cream. He said, too bad, witch. That bitch ...