So I had this dream last night

where I was staying in this fancy, open-air hotel. I shared a room with Michael, Kirsten and Di.

Bunk beds, it was really nice.

At some point in time, while I was downstairs, one of the floors collapsed.

The sixth floor, I think. Ours was the eighth.

There was a point where one of the strangers I was with scaled the outside of the building to rescue a girl on the crushed floor. When he got to her, she had a towel over her head and she couldn’t stop crying because they “took away her water” (this is a dream, people, bear with me).

Anyway, I was outside, looking up at where my intact room was, where none of my friends were (although I didn’t know where they were at the time), and thinking “all of my clothes and things are up there.” I scaled the side of the building and, hanging off of the railing, I tossed all my belongings fifty feet down into the yard. Maybe I’m a girly-girl after all?