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In my dream, I was dressed very much like a cheap tart, and soliciting on
the streets of some city. After servicing a punter in a dark, dingy room,
I was confronted by an angry man (probably a pimp) who pushed me around
and took most of my earnings. My as of yet unborn child did not appear in
the dream, but I felt a sense of loss and regret that informed me that
the child was either dead, or had been taken from me.
I wake up gasping, a cold sweat covering me and soaking my dress. I bite my lower lip and fight back the tears. Ever since I escaped Madam Scarlet's, I've feared that with no other opportunities available, I might fall back into the lifestyle which I both loathed, and to some degree, had come to terms with. But having gotten out, I'm determined not to fall back into it, whatever it takes. Especially given what I've seen in this latest dream. Whether they're accurate predictors of the future or not, they've proven at least that they're not to be taken lightly. John's not usually a light sleeper, but (perhaps due to a combination of the uncomfortable chair and restlessness over my non-answer to his proposal) in this instance he notices my distress immediatley. "Hari? Are you ok?"
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2/5/2007 10:05:13 PM
Extending Enabled
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