Molly is a hero. She saves a lot of people in her dreams.
She remembers the dream of which I'm about to tell you like it was yesterday. She was about oh, perhaps, well, I'm not sure how old she was, because right now we are arguing about the age of her AT dream and I think she's wrong but she's threatening to bite me so I will give in and say that she was fourteenish.
So about Andrew Thatch, known for the rest of this post as AT, because it shortens the typing time.
Let's pretend that I'm interviewing her for a magazine. How about People--Because she is now a famous artist/jazz singer (who carries a polka dot umbrella) living in a flat in Rome with her Moroccan chef husband and adopted children from every continent.
Here we go.
Molly: I remember it like it was yesterday.
Me: Tell me about your dream.
Molly: No, I don't want to think about it right now, I'm fixing to go to bed. It's scary.
Me: Ok. We'll wait and do this interview at an earlier time of day.
Molly: He was standing in the kitchen and it was dark. I was walking through on my way to living room and I saw him standing there and I asked if I could help him.
Me: So, do you see a lot of guys in the kitchen in the dark and pause to ask politely if you can help them?
Molly: Well, it wasn't politely, I was more, like, confused. But anyways, back to my story. He said "My name is Andrew Thatch and I need to talk to your parents about selling them something." I told him I would go get them and walked into the utility where they were folding clothes.
Me: So Molly, are your parents obsessive about folding clothes?
Molly: Stop interrupting, I'm telling a story. I find it offensive you mock my traumatic experience.
Me: Please forgive me. Carry on.
Molly: So I told you (my parents) he was here and you both just looked over my shoulder and I turned around and he was standing there. And uh, he started to attack you, well, actually he attacked Dad with a knife. And so I grabbed that ugly gold touch lamp (what happened to that lamp anyway? I liked to play with it) and took the shade off and broke the bulb so that there were jagged pieces of glass sticking out of it. I took it and I scratched his face with it. And his body swirled away. And as he did so, his voice echoed out of the swirling vapor "My son will come after you."
Molly: And then I woke up and I was terrified. And ever since then, I've been convinced that the Anti-Christ would be called Andrew Thatch.
Many stories herein are subject to the faulty, and sometimes creative, memory of the blog owner and should not be taken as factual, although the names and events are real! Kind of.