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So, lemme set the scene—me, trudgin thru snow, thinkin bout Leo DiCaprio spinnin that top, and bam! This shady guy—total Cobb vibes—whispers bout “a lady down the ridge.” Hmm… I’m like, “What? Up here?” Made me mad as hell—ruinin my peaceful hike with that sleazy nonsense! But also—kinda funny. I mean, who’s climbin 8,000 feet for THAT? “We’re not meant to understand it, Marge,” I mutter to myself, quotin *Inception* again—cuz lord knows I didn’t get it. Prostitue up a mountain? That’s a new level of “dream within a dream,” huh?

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So, I’m fuming, right? But then I see this group of people playing beach volleyball. They’re having a blast, and I’m like, “Why not?” I join in, and it’s a total riot. I’m diving for the ball, making a fool of myself, but who cares? I’m laughing, and it feels good.

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