Dreams and nightmares
As usual, the whole dream is pretty sketchy. Some parts of it involved driving around town in an open topped bus, even though it was raining. I was also in this house, although the inside of it was much bigger than it is in reality.
Andy was in it, and I think possibly I was sharing the house with him, and another woman.
The time was some point in the future, and I was happily living my life, when one night there was a knock at the door. I went to open it, and looked through the spyhole first.
FKM was there. Dripping wet, Looking so abjectly miserable.
Of course I let him in. Andy was giving me the most disapproving look, but I took him in, gave him a towel, helped dry him off, hugged him to warm him up, sat him down to find out what his troubles were.
What pisses me off so much is that if this happened in real life, that is exactly what I would do.
Nine months ago he was crying down the phone to me, depressed, fed up with being “Good old FKM,” who helped sort out everyone elses problems, nobody giving a flying fuck about his.
Guess what fuckface - I feel the same damn thing!!!