Woke up with terrible eye strain, no doubt the result of dreaming what felt like all night long. USA’s obligatory SVU marathon would erase most of my memory of the various episodes, but in the first I recall, I was spotted below from the balcony of a two-story apartment by a fellow who accused me of peeping on his girlfriend inside and informed me that he was coming down for me. I continued around the front, indifferent of meeting him, not so much because he was justified to render punishment, but rather, it was unlikely he’d be able to since—you guessed it—I had super-powers. Our confrontation never occurred, and I flew away. Flight again was hard to control except too high straight up, but I managed to maintain enough altitude off the ground when I leaped from the top of the building to distinguish it from a suicide jump. The rest I lost but my search for the password to an old AOL account… something like PPW306R, which, as it turns out, was instead the license plate of James Bond’s Lotus Esprit in The Spy Who Loved Me (and my Corgi replica of it).
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