After dinner we went to the Great Southern for a beer. I ordered two beers from the barman, who was short and bald, in a young and groovy way. He had a pair of spectacles, which he put on as I ordered. They had thick black plastic rims and the glass was also quite thick, but I suspected it wasn't optical glass. As he pulled the beers he asked "How are we? Living the dream?"
Living the dream! I didn't know how to answer him. I didn't even know where to start thinking about it. Living the day-dream, I joked with Michael. But am I living the dream? Could I? What would it be, the dream?
Many hours later I realised I should have said "We're having a beer at the Great Southern, what do you think?"
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