Suddenly, I feel like the dream was a summary of my entire life at that house I sold. Smoking outside the bar with my incredibly normal friends, carrying a floppy purse filled with cash, overhearing awesome deals, while some sketchy man (my ex) keeps trying to steal from me and tell me it was an accident. And then letting him slide just so that it doesn’t interrupt my incredibly mundane day any more than it already has.
He went outside to the parking lot, they were waiting outside, her in a white tank top and birthday tiara (I shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone). My girlfriend, the person who threw the whole party, was of course nowhere to be found.
His daughter, in the same weird outfit, was holding the door for him.