Dreamwalkers, part X

You wander in places you can’t recall but the people are familiar, some more than others, and so is the music. The moon is shining on your dream and you’re sharing it with the one you love, the one you’ve been loving for since forever. The one who is finally there with you. The two of you are dancing, both of you grinning like motherfuckers, and you see yourselves squeezing each other’s hands as you do so, and your mind wonders about squeezing a hell a of a lot more.

You see a beach and you say “Let’s go there” but your man resists. He picks your bag off the floor and pulls out your diary. You break a little sweat even as he flicks through the safe pages. His face goes much more serious than you’ve seen it tonight, but this is a face you’ve seen before. He stops flicking right where you wish he wouldn’t and he shows the page to your brother.

Your brother reads the page and looks at you, shaking his head.

You’re alone at the beach but you can still hear the music.

Your hard-on’s fading, and you look around feverishly.

And Delta watches, smiling.

But you don’t know that.

Kitik’s Plight

This is a story about a man named Kitik. His name is not really Kitik though. It is actually a little more complicated, but no one here remembers his real name. And so he is called Kitik and that’s just how it is.

Kitik comes from Thailand but lives in Germany. Sixteen years now he’s been busting his balls for a Thai family who own a restaurant and rent out the apartments above it. They once even owned a second restaurant, but then the Euro replaced the Deutsche Mark and business has never been the same since. The lady of the house spending more of her time in the casino than catering to her customers may have also had a hand in that. Either way, it doesn’t matter for this story, because even when they were the best of times, no one had told Kitik.