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While I was Dreaming
Welcome to The Dreamery. There have been a few changes, but my blog is still simply a random series of Thoughts and fantasies, examining my past and my impossible future. Nothing on this blog is a lie. When I say nothing that follows is made up you can be sure it is the truth. Even the dreams are real dreams that I have had . And all the fantasies are my real fantasies.

There are however some questions which may never be answered:
Is it possible to actually laugh your arse off?
How sick is a parrot?
Are sandboys truly happy?
And just how mad is a box of frogs anyway?

And mostly, I do have it all in perspective!
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James Brown
Posted:Oct 27, 2006 10:13 am
Last Updated:Jan 11, 2007 9:26 am

After the sad death of the so called Godfather of soul I re visited this blog and just made a couple of small changes, it might have been disrespectful not to, he was after all a great influential singer........

I had to go to Oxford today, and I thought of all my American friends as I drove past the dreaming spires on the ring road. Even with modern development it's still a fantastic sight from the rise in the ground to the north west.

Anyway on the way back I was listening to the radio when James Brown comes on; "Sex Machine."
Well now I expect you have heard it said before that Macy Gray sounds just like Marj Simpson? Always makes me laugh. So James Brown goes "well I'm ready to get up and do my thang, I mean I wanna get into it," and he sounds just like Cartman from South Park!!
I couln't believe it, first I'm laughing my arse off, then I realise I can never take The Godfather of Soul seriously again. I keep seeing a little round cartoon ball of a guy running round saying "let's take it to the bridge," and shouting "Those bastards have killed Kenny!"

Does anyone know how I can break this vision, or have you got any other mad soundalikes?
What is your Pilosophy of Life?
Posted:Oct 26, 2006 4:07 am
Last Updated:May 3, 2012 5:59 pm

When I was a student, around the time I was enjoing "Basement Benefits", my best friend, who was an art student, painted a picture of himself, surfing, right at the top of a huge wave, just about to get eaten by it, but somehow staying upright. When I asked him what it was he said it was his Philosophy of Life.

I said you mean "life is riding the crest of every wave?" It described him so well; he has always lived that way. I decided rather boringly, that mine was "life is what you make it," and it has stuck. So ever since then I always ask people:

What is your Philosophy of Life?

Don't be shy, post your answers here, maybe someone will really surprise us.....
Stormlover; A Fantasy, Continued
Posted:Oct 23, 2006 6:16 pm
Last Updated:Aug 8, 2007 2:33 pm

Stormlover says,
"There's time, Dreamer-boy,” but there's something in the intensity of her kiss that betrays the need inside her. She has just given me the orgasm of my life, and I need to feel her coming for me....

She breaks the kiss and drops her face to my neck, nuzzling against me, the soft weight of her body lying along mine, her knee in between my legs. I know she is giving me time to recover, but I don't want to let her cool down, so I kiss her again, running my tongue over her teeth and pressing it hard against hers. She folds her arms around me and still kissing, I let my hands begin to explore her body again.

I hook my thumb under her arm-pit and feel the warmth there. She murmurs a little and taking that as a yes I push her elbow up over the pillow and let my eyes gorge on the shape of her shoulder and under arm. I run my tongue across the perfectly shaved skin and she shudders, then I press my mouth hard against it until she is squirming with sensation. I know how this feels, almost like being tickled, but intensely erotic as well, and it sensitizes the neck, which is where I go next, kissing and licking and nibbling. She squirms some more, I know I am tickling her, but I keep going until I start to get the response I had hoped for.
“Oh, oh please don’t stop.” Her neck will have become hyper-sensitive, and if I am lucky any moment now she is going to experience a kind of tingling, thrilling sensation I call a neck orgasm.
“Oh God Dreamer how did you do that?” she gasps, and I look up and smile before going back to her breast to bring the sensation back to normal; too much could be de-sensitizing. Her nipple hardens under my lips so I flick it against my teeth with my tongue sending a ripple through her body. My hand traces a circle round her other breast, trying to stay away from the nipple, but I cannot make myself tease her for long, and soon give in to my desire to feel her moving against me. I draw the back of my hand over the nipple then twist it gently between my fingers, all the time continuing the rapid flicking of the other with my tongue.
She lets out a satisfied sigh as if that is all she has been waiting for, but then I realize she is pressing herself against me harder, trying to rub her clitoris against my hip. I pretend I haven’t noticed and slide my arm beneath her shoulder lifting her to me and then turning her over so that I can run my finger all along her spine. I lean forward and begin to kiss at the back of her neck. I breathe the smell of her skin deep into my lungs and it gives me a rush of desire that spreads right through me. My fingers run down along her side and then to the top of her thigh and towards her groin. She pulls up her knees to lift herself and breathes,
“Yes Dreamer, please,” but I resist touching her there yet; my hand slips under her to trace lines on her belly and up again to her breasts. My cock is against her thigh. I am glad I have already come or I couldn’t keep playing with her like this.

She has forgotten trying to please me and is giving herself completely to her own sensations. All the same I am already hardening again when her fingers close around my cock and she lifts up the head to rub it against her clitoris. The wetness feels hot and soo slippery. I pull away and turn on my back, lifting her knee and sliding under her. I put my lips to her breast and run my finger over the entrance to her pussy. She is soaking wet, and as I think of this the rain begins again at the window. I slip my finger in a little way to wet it then touch it gently against her bud. There is a groan from somewhere above me, then she begins to move her hips, showing me how she wants to be touched. I continue a while, but I want to taste her juice so I slide down the bed and raise my lips to hers. Soon I am licking as hard as I can, but it is obviously not hard enough because she presses herself to me and rolls her hips searching for the perfect touch. She is super turned on and I am also getting serious help from the storm. Thunder crashes again. She breaks the contact and pulls me back up to her face. By now it is dark outside.
“I need you in me Dreamer.”

I am lying on my back and I know it is time to let her take control again She sits one knee either side of me and lifts her hips. I know this moment so well and yet Stormlover makes it into something special. She raises the tip of my cock and rubs it over her clit one more time, then slowly slides herself onto it. She seems to suck me into her, then pushes down until I am deep inside. The sensation is incredible, I feel as if I have become part of her and I wonder if it feels that way to her. She begins to rock her hips back and forward, lost in the rhythm and her feelings and the storm. She is breathing harder now and making longer strokes, raising her hips then plunging me into her again. Rain lashes the window and she throws her head back gasping at every stroke.
“Oh yes Dreamer, YES!”
Her hand is between us now rubbing her fingers over her clit, till at last her hips begin to jerk uncontrollably, she cries out again, “Oh, oh!,” gasping between each sound. I can feel her orgasm, and she drives herself through it in ecstasy until she finally falls forward, burying her head in my neck, and lies there finished, her breathing softening again.

But I am still hard inside her. I wait a moment, then decide this woman knows her body, so I turn her again and raise myself over her, looking down questioningly. She can not see me but, unbelievably she knows what I am thinking.
“It’s ok,” she says simply, and I slide into her again, in and out slowly each time, feeling her beautiful soft inner skin tight against my cock. I had not been very close, but mentally I want to be, so instead of straining I try to relax completely, I do not want to come by pounding into her. For a little I am not sure if this will work, but it feels so soft and intimate that I just ride with my feelings and relax even more. Then I feel that distant stirring inside me that tells me I can come again. I bend to her mouth and find her lips in the dark, my tongue darting into her in imitation of the rhythm of our bodies. Stormlover is beginning to breath harder again too, then she whispers in my ear,
“I’m coming again too, Dreamer.”
I am not expecting this, but her words flood through my senses bringing the feeling nearer. Suddenly she raises her hands to my chest; palms flat against me she begins to shudder again, waves of orgasm ripping through her. Her fingernails scratch at my nipples and her gasps send me over the edge, my cum bursts out of me and I press inside her as deep as possible, wanting to get as much into her as I can. She puts her arms around my waist and holds me in her until my last few spasms subside, then I lie down half on top of her, waiting until I soften and slip out before finally I shift my weight from her, rest my head on her shoulder and relax completely.

When I was a I used to listen to a line in a favorite song by the Eagles: "I've been searching for the of the Devil himself, I've been searching for an angel in white. I've been waiting for a woman who's a little of both and I can feel her but she's nowhere in sight."
Now she was lying next to me in my bed, her beautiful eyes gazing at me wonderingly. The thunder and rain had stopped, but maybe the storm was only just beginning.

She was breathing softly again. I lifted my head and kissed her gently.
“Welcome to England, Stormlover.”
“Mmmmm..Dreamer," she whispered, "What shall we do tomorrow?”
What's in a Name?
Posted:Oct 19, 2006 9:15 am
Last Updated:Feb 28, 2007 9:51 am

So the question has arisen about my predeliction for women with names that begin with a "K" sound, and it has rightly been pointed out this probably stems from formative experiences as a . I can remember a number of early entanglements with "k" sound partners, and I'm sure one ex, now a very close friend, who's name is Kate, would claim some of the credit for my fetish; she was very sexy.
However it has to be said that of the two great sexual loves of my life, the one who has been referred to in this blog as "Liz," and the other who you may later come to know as "The Lioness," neither's name was a K.
Nowadays I find that this has developed into a more general love of the sound of a woman's name so that for example I now find saying the word "Stormlover," gets me thinking along fantasy lines. So it's just a mental trigger really, but an interesting one. Would I find it sexy for a girl to whisper her OWN name into my ear??! Now I can't imagine anyone doing this unless I asked, but I'm thinking, yeah, I think just occasionally, if it was the right name and the right person, at the right moment that could be a turn on....definately! Anyone reading want to share their thoughts?
Storm Lover; A Fantasy
Posted:Oct 18, 2006 11:36 am
Last Updated:Mar 3, 2009 4:17 pm

It was a warm, almost sultry October afternoon. I was walking past the river cafe when I heard a soft voice behind me:
I didn't register for a moment...Dreamer is not my real name. Then it hit me. American accent.
I turned and there she was. And she was beautiful. Just like she said; not beautiful like Elle or Angelina, but striking, and she glowed, and she knew what she wanted. For a moment I thought I was dreaming.
"It wasn't that hard," she said smiling, "I knew the town, and like you said there are people here who know you. Once I'd worked out that clue you gave me I asked around and the rest kind of fell into place."
I was still in a trance.
"I've come to visit, is that ok?"
She was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt, with a little linen jacket over the shoulders. Her skin was like polished oak and her eyes shone with excitment. I knew I was staring at her as if she had no clothes on but she just stood there and let me look. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders and set off the curve of her breasts. It was Stormlover.
"Can we sit and have coffee?" she asked, breaking the spell.
"Yeah...yes," I stammered, and we sat at a table outside and began to talk. We talked hours, about how she had found me, about how she had just had to jump on a plane but had guessed I would back out if I knew she was coming, and then about our lives, the universe, everything, and who we really were. And all the time I kept staring, soaking her in. I'm over forty and in the words of Peter Green I've seen lots of pretty girls, but I felt like Bobby Goldsboro singing "Summer the First Time."
It didn't seem long, but the autumn sun had fallen low behind the church and a wind was picking up. Her hair blew across her face and I looked up. The sky was heavy, and just then a big raindrop slashed across my face.
"Come on," I said, "we'd better move."
I led her along the river and cut through the edge of town. As we reached my road the sky crashed open and we were instantly soaked through.
I didn't need to ask her if she could run. We flew down the street and into my house dripping on the floor and gasping for breath. Suddenly there was a different spell, one I couldn't break with words. I took her hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom, but that was the last of the leading I was to do for the rest of the night.
She threw back the duvet and sat on the edge of the bed. Her wet nipples showed hard through the T-shirt, and she peeled it off, then wriggled out of her jeans and pulled the duvet round her as I took off my own clothes. We lay together a little, warming our bodies, and I buried my face in her hair. She smelled of perfume mixed with skin and woodsmoke. Her hand began to wander over my skin and I returned the caress, running the back of my fingers down her cheek and brushing them over her nipples.
She gasped softly as I took one between my lips and touched it with the tip of my tongue.
"Don't forget this," she said, lifting my face to hers, and she pressed her mouth against mine, her tongue slipping over my teeth. It was the first time we had kissed. I responded with my own tongue, feeling heat flood through me. The wind was rising outside and rain thrashed against the windows. A flash split the evening halflight, and a second later there was a heavy bang of thunder and I instinctively flinched.
"It's ok," breathed Stormlover, looking into my eyes. The calm in the room seemed intensified by the fury of the rain outside, but there was a storm building in me too.
She turned her body so that her breast hung over my lips and took my nipple lightly between her teeth.
"Aaaahh," I groaned, and I arched my back to feel more of her against me. My lips returned to her breast, mirroring hers on mine, and we teased and released each other in unison, each following the others lead. I pinched her other nipple in my fingers and she moaned again.
"Oh Dreamer," she gasped, "I want to wait but I don't think I can."
She slid lower, kissing my belly. I licked against hers and wrapped my arms around her. My cock was in her mouth, but before I could begin to lick at her clit she swivelled back round so I couldn't reach her.
"Not yet," she said smiling, before sliding her lips back over me and flicking her tongue across the underside where the skin is most sensitive. It was like a rush of electric shocks. The lightning flashed again and she looked at me and shuddered as the thunder rolled. It was as if she was getting off on the storm.
"Come for me dreamer," she whispered, reaching up for my nipples with both hands. I felt as if all the parts of me she was touching were connected together and there was a connection in our minds as well. I gave myself up to her tongue and her fingers. Her breasts lay between my knees, brushing my thighs as she moved, and a swell was building in my chest and between my hips. She brushed back her hair and looked up at me so I could see her face. Her eyes were smiling; she knew I was coming and she was in complete control. An electric charge began to spread through me, building like a storm cloud about to break, then I crashed over into an orgasm, pumping again and again, filling her from inside me as if I could make us into one.
She stayed with me as my storm subsided, she gently caressed me with her tongue and lips until all that was left was a tingle of afterglow, then slid back up my body, her warmth covering my chest. Her hair fell over my face and she kissed me again, softer this time. She tasted salty and sweet, and I felt heat rising again in my heart.
"Mmmm?" she replied.
"I need to do that for you."
"I know you do, Dreamer; there's time."

My fantasy continued, but like Stormlover says...There's plenty of time.
Basement Benefits
Posted:Oct 17, 2006 8:59 am
Last Updated:Aug 3, 2011 3:02 am

Someone asked on another post how long a friendship with benefits could last. I couldn't really comment because I only ever had one and she became a FWB after we split up having dated seriously for two and a half years. But it brought back a good memory and it's a good story so I'm sharing.

At the time she was the love of my life, lets call her Liz. We were too young to understand that love doesn't mean you have to share the same views on everything, I guess I wanted to control her a bit (silly boy) and she was insecure about not being taken seriously so it got to the stage that whenever we disagreed we fought. She ended it gently, the kindest I have ever been dumped to this day, and by that time we had tried as hard as our young hearts knew how to make it work, but I knew she was right.

But fate conspired to send me to university in the same town where she still lived with her parents and it wasn't long before our paths crossed.

Now we didn't have to behave like a couple the old passions soon resurfaced, and before I knew what a lucky guy I was she had proposed an arrangement. I could visit for sex whenever I liked! I know! In those days no one knew one day there would be sites like this and "nice girls" didn't do that kind of thing. But she was as nice as they get, and it was her idea.

Her parents lived in a victorian town house near the city centre, one of those narrow three story buildings that has a basement with railings and an open area to the street. Her room was in the basement, and if you climbed the railings you could climb down the fire escape and be let in by the basement door to her room. Her idea was that she would be my unpaid ; it sounds dreadful, but she really got off on it. I could go out with my university friends while she worked on her final year school exams, and then at the end of the evening I could knock gently on the door. Her parents would be upstairs asleep, and I could stay till first light, then slip back to my college unseen.

I still get turned on thinking about how I used to spend the evening in the pub with my best friend talking about life the universe and everything, knowing I could drop by Liz's place on the way home. She was the first girl I ever had sex with - we tried to teach each other everything we could and had some amazing times together. The FWB period was wierd though, we were both going through changes, but what stays with me is the look in her eyes every time she let me in the door, amazed to see me there, hungry for sex, still loving at the same time. Also the incredible feeling of slipping naked into her already warm bed, feeling that first soft touch of skin on skin. Sometimes she was already asleep when I arrived unexpected, but she was never anything but ready for me.

One time we nearly got caught when her parents came back from a party at two o'clock in the morning and we heard her father coming down the stairs. When we heard the front door open she remembered they had gone out.
"He'll come down to say goodnight," she wispered. I was terrified, her parents liked me, but I didn't think her Dad would like me screwing his baby , even though she was eighteen by then. Parents attitudes were different back then. Moments later we heard him coming down the stairs.
"Goodight Dad," she said, as I held my breath.
"Goodnight," came back through the door after a pause that naerly killed me. And he walked back upstairs. Maybe he knew more than we gave him credit for.... I don't know.

Another time I got stopped by the police, climbing out of the basement at four in the morning.
"And what's goin' on 'ere then?" said the policeman, sounding like a spoof from a TV comedy.
I couldn't say I'd just been visiting my gilrfriend - he would have been bound to knock on the front door and check it out, so I said I was on my way home and I'd dropped my glove and had to climb down to get it back.
He looked at me for a few seconds, then seemed to decide I was OK because he said,
"Get off 'ome quick then," and wandered off.

When Liz went to university the next year we kept in touch but didn't see each other for a long time. Then one year she invited me to a New Year party. I drove over and she told me I could stay so I could have a few drinks. By this time her parents had moved and she had a bedroom on the first floor. She put my things in one down the corridor. When everyone else had left I said goodnight, that I'd had a good time and went to bed. Not long later she came into my room and said would I like to go to hers, just to talk. Now I'm thinking about it, I remember she changed a lot after university; she said she didn't enjoy it much like most of us did and had lost a lot of confidence. But that night it all came back to her, I remember saying did she really want to talk and she said,
"Yes but I was kind of hoping you'd make love to me too," and we spent the night remembering all the ways we used to turn each other on.

We both went to work in London, and stayed friends, saw each other for lunch now and again, but one day we had a stupid fight over a memory we disagreed on, I still don't know how it happened, but it was never the same again. We both got married, mine didn't last, and we gradually lost touch.

I often think about trying to get back in touch, but I think these things are best left. Its a wonderful memory of a formative experience.
When we first got together her room was at the top of the house, and to this day I still get a bit excited by attic bedrooms!
My Profile
Posted:Oct 16, 2006 12:55 pm
Last Updated:Mar 3, 2009 4:12 pm

I am not sure how much you can really tell about someone from their AdultFriendFinder profile, you can probably learn more about me by reading my blogs and advice line strands. But in case you want factual information, I am just a fraction over six feet tall and I weigh around twelve stone depending on how much excercise I have been doing.
I have brown eyes and angular features, and I usually wear jeans T-shirt and rugby shirt.
I love finding out what is important to people and especially finding out what is important to a woman when it comes to sex. I love talking to women, in fact I think I bond better with them than with men, and many of my best friends are female. I do have one or two close male friends who understand me but generally women "get" me more easily, especially intelligent women.
I am not really into hard fast sex, more slow and gentle. Occasionally I do like to do it more roughly, but generally I find if you let your mind work for you then the rewards can be even more intense.
I particularly like it when I'm with a woman who responds well to gentle teasing and stimulation.

I hate injustice and people who don't care, and I sometimes get too disillusioned when the world is not how I would like it to be. More if anyone wants it, just poet a comment or a question.
Posted:Oct 16, 2006 7:40 am
Last Updated:Apr 8, 2010 4:21 pm

I dared to visit [blog partygirl3869]'s blog post [Truth or Dare.....Come on...I Know You Aren't Scared....or Are You] and she dared me to write a story about a woman on that post, so here it is. It's an anagram of course; can you guess who it is? I think she's beautiful.

Maud Mencord had been very ill, but now that she was well on the way to recovery she decided to take a trip to a place that has become known on another blog as "The Wrong Continent," to see if she could find an adventure which would help her get back into the swing of things.

She arrived at the airport and the security guard asked her to stand with her arms spread so that he could check her for hidden weapons. He did his best to be professional but Maud was wearing a skin tight red dress, by which very little was hidden, let alone a weapon. He was terribly handsome and she wished they had more time because the thought of his Hidden Weapon (which was no longer quite so hidden)was turning her on, but he was busy and she was late for her flight so she couln't take it any further. However as her surname suggests, Maud Mencord has always had a way of stringing men along, so she slipped her phone number into his hand for future reference.

On the plane she was served by an air hostess who had a button missing on her shirt. She had not noticed but Maud saw that every time she bent over a passenger's seat the starched white of her blouse parted to reveal glimpses of her flat stomach and lacy bra. Maud could see that some of the male passengers were asking for drinks a bit more than usual, and she herself had to squirm in her seat once or twice, partly (but only partly) to get a better view.)But maud had only ever been bi-curious and so although she was by now feeling quite horny she decided not to take it any further with the hostess.

The man sitting next to her was tall and very good looking, he had eyes nearly as blue as Partygirl's and seemed much more interested in Maud than in the hostess, so she talked to him about life, the univeres and everything until it was nearly time for the plane to land. But he was obviously going home to his family so Maud felt she shouldn't try to take things further with him. So by the time she arrived at The Wrong Continent she was feeling really very horny.

She left the airport, picked up her hire car and drove (carefully because it was the wrong side of the road as well as the wrong continent) to the small town where she was going to stay. It was a beautiful afternoon and she soon found herself walking alongside a sparkling river in front of a smart cafe. And there, standing staring into the river stood A MAN!
"Hello" said Maud quietly.
The man's dark brown eyes looked into hers and he was immediately struck by her beauty.
"Hello," said the man, "I can hear by your voice that you are from The Wrong Continent. What brings you to our little town?"
"I am recovering from an operation and I'm looking for an adventure to help me feel well again," said Maud, hungrily looking into the man's eyes and assessing his firm chest and slim powerful bum. (Thats "butt" to you Wrong Continenters.)

There was an awkward pause; the man, whose voice was well spoken English, was obviously suffering from the famous British reserve. At the same time Maud looked to him to be more than recovered enough for the things he was thinking about. But surely she didn't mean that the way it had sounded he thought. Maud could see that he found her irresistible, and by now she was AS HORNY AS HELL! She leant against him and pushed him firmly up against the wall. Her soft lips parted slightly as she undid one button of his shirt and slipped her fingers inside. She began to touch her lips to his when he said,
"wouldn't it be indecorous to kiss here in public?"
"Damn decorum," said Maud huskily, and pressed her mouth to his, her tounge darting between his lips. She was determined to take this one further......
Learning to have orgasms
Posted:Oct 11, 2006 6:33 am
Last Updated:Oct 31, 2008 3:43 am

I have just had a great time reading some members thoughts in their blogs and advice lines.
It reminded me of how I learned to enjoy sex more. I grew up thinking the most important thing in sex was for me to make sure my partner enjoyed it. I liked sex, but I didn't know I was only scratching the surface of what I could feel. When I was thirty I had a fantastically passionate relationship with a girl. ("The Lioness.) When we first got together she was quite experienced and loved sex but had never had an orgasm. I had never had to teach a woman how to before, (except possibly when I was ateenager with my first girlfriend - another good story) but I managed to figure out that she was not letting her mind get into the moment. I told her to concentrate on the feeling of me touching her and let her mind run free, like the difference between someone touching your hand when they give you the change at the cash desk, and someone you are hot for touching your hand for the first time. They are the same feeling on the skin, but completely different in the mind! Once she got the hang of this she began to come beautifully every time we had sex, (which was very often!) I got to know her responses well and could keep her just hovering on the edge of orgasm without losing the moment until she started pretending to be further away than she was so she could trick me into making her come. I love it when a woman rubs her clit to make herself come when we are fucking, but with her I started having to push her hand away to make her last longer! It put me into a position where I could stop worrying about her orgasm and start concentrating on my own, because I knew I could trust her to find a way to get what she needed out of me for herself. I realised that although as a man I had always been able to come during sex, in fact I had been a lot like her in that I wasn't letting my whole mind get freely into the moment. After that I began to let go more, and the sex became fantastic. I had never realised how good it could be, I think this is what people mean when they say sex is better with someone you are really in love with. But I think it is more that sex is better with someone you completely trust and understand sexually. I have had several relationships with women I have really loved but not had good sex with. Is that another skill I need to learn?
What makes a woman
Posted:Oct 9, 2006 12:40 pm
Last Updated:Jun 14, 2012 3:12 am

What really turns a woman on when she is alone with her thoughts? I know it is different for everyone. I find myself thinking about this often, so if you are reading this and would like to share what goes on in your head leave me a comment.

To link to this blog (hotdreamer1000) use [blog hotdreamer1000] in your messages.

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