I (Don't) Need Your Forgiveness

I dreamed that Twiggy was in a hospital bed. He was so sick that he could hardly move, but he was crying for me. I wanted to go to him, to hold him and kiss him and love him, but there was a wall between us, made of impenetrable glass. I tried to break it, but there was no way to get to him.
I woke up screaming his name, with six worried eyes looking down at me.
“Another nightmare?” Ginger asked.
I nodded.
“Was he alive, this time?” Pogo asked.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A hospital.”
“That’s better, don’t you think?” John asked Ginger.
“This one felt so real,” I sighed, sitting up.
“They always do,” Pogo said gently.
“I want to check the hospitals there. Can we do that?”
“I’m on it,” Pogo volunteered, grabbing the laptop to search for phone numbers.