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Painting her face with soft light, the morning sun peeked into her bedroom. Dixie stretched. Suddenly, as if poked by a sharp stick, she was awake. With excitement she thought, I can't wait to replay my recorded dreams! What secrets will they reveal?
For the next twenty minutes she sat, listening and watching. Finally, she reached a conclusion. Her dreams were nothing more than a pile of stupid rambling, haphazardly stitched together by a squirrel.
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Dixie
Bradenton, FL
2013 Camaro ZL1
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