y profile reads, Carrie, a woman with a dream. That’s how I’m known on social media.

That’s me, the dreamer. Ever since childhood I’d had imaginary friends. I remember conjuring up exciting adventures to keep myself entertained.

As I entered my teens, I continued to create these fantasy friends. I had become an avid daydreamer. I realized daydreaming was my way of protecting myself from bitchy teenage girls and very hormonal teenage boys.

Then the daytime fantasies transformed into nightly dreams and became filled with sexual innuendos. At sixteen, my understanding of sex and making love comprised of nothing more than heavy petting. Yet those nightly images lulled my roaring hormones to sleep.