The last thought Carl had before sleep was of how long it had been since he’d been able to sleep without a buzz.

<+>

Ally said: “Carl, this isn’t going to be much of a conversation if you cry.”

It was a dream. Carl knew it was a dream. But this version of Ally couldn’t have been constructed by his own mind; it was her.

“I’m sorry,” his dream self said. It wasn’t the big apology for everything, but a little one for the state he was in.

Ally shook her head to trivialize his tears, and looked around. “Well, look, where I’m at now, I can see how petty and inconsequential people’s little interactions are. Whether or not you hold a grudge against Jenny, she did a good job with me. Besides, I didn’t even remember what you did.”

“What do you mean, didn’t?”

She chuckled. “Carl… or, I’m sorry, you probably want me calling you Dad, don’t you? I can remember everything now. But my experiences… it’s a little like watching a movie because you like a particular actor. The stuff that happened in my life is just… stuff. I can’t hold it against you. Not here, now that everything makes sense. All the grudges, and hates, and prejudices… they’re so pointless, after. But during, they serve a purpose.”

“What do you mean by ‘here’? You’re an angel now?”

Ally laughed, and the atmosphere around them tinkled. “The concept of ‘angel’ has been so co-opted by people. It’s nothing like what you’d think. There isn’t much I’m allowed to tell you, C – er, I mean Dad. But everything’s fine now. For me, for Jenny.”

He nodded, dream-approximated tears staining his cheeks.

“But you, on the other hand… well. No point in lecturing. You’re aware your life isn’t quite right. I see you’ve begun to take steps.”

Like a kid trying to impress his hero, Carl said: “I went all day without a drink.”