I dreamt about [guy of the moment] this morning. Very gentle and loving. All newly in love and fluttery and lusty. Here I go again. And then the postcard arrived.
London in June is rather crowded, but it's LONDON!
And he signed it "Love,". Of course, I do that too, but it's nice anyway. I just hope I don't blow it by dreaming. He is a rather nice subject for fantasies, but if they screw up a good friendship that would be rather bad. I do enjoy falling in love (I keep wanting to capitalize Love!). Ah, what a silly creature I am, but happy.
About the dream: I wonder what the Freudian significance of malfunctioning elevators is? Not the box kind, it was sort of an expanded wire cage.