Ironically, I actually did dream about Susan last night. It was my second time in almost 3 years. At least of the ones I remember. Sadly, it had nothing to do with me being an astronaut finding a floating bottle on a deserted island and rubbing said bottle and having Susan poof out in a plume of smoke to kiss me passionately on the lips. Nor was the dream in any way erotic. Which is equally, and possibly even more, sad.
By the looks of her in the above photo by Stephen de las Heras, she’d rather not live inside a bottle. Unless, perhaps, she had frogs.