I woke up from an incredible dream, not the sort with concrete events, but more of an overall sensation. Andy had me in his arms, he was there, he loved me. It was so real... My heart hurt a little when I woke up, and clarity returned. Reality is a bitch.

I sighed a pretty wretched sigh, if I do say so myself. Then I remembered that, in a manner of speaking, Andy was here. I glanced at the bookshelf, and got the shock of a lifetime!

Little-Andy was no longer standing cockily, eyebrow raised, on his pedestal. I shot out of bed, not believing what I was seeing. There he sat, nonchalant, cross-legged, in the middle of the pedestal. And he was smiling merrily at me.

"Dude!" I gestured at him. This was not possible! Little-Andy was made of sandstone, not an articulated action figure... Right?

A little freaked out, I carefully picked him up. He kept his pose, smile never waivering. This did not match the photos online... But he still looked just like Andy, same clothes. Shit. I went and sat back down on my bed.

There was only one possible explanation. I had lost my mind. I knew my Biersack obsession was a little weird, but it wasn't like I never thought of anything else! I had a job, I had a few friends! Granted, a lot of them lived in other states, but we kept in touch!

Yet there I was, having a full-blown visual AND tactile hallucination that little-Andy was moving around! I peered over at him. Dammit- he was still sitting down! It was persistent, too!

Ok. What do I do about this? No fucking way I was going to tell anyone. My psychiatrist didn't even know I was, I guess, apparently psychotically fixated on Andy. If I was psychotic, I felt like I should tell her. But on the other hand, I really didn't feel very, well, insane... Did insane people ever feel insane? Ugh, fuck this!

Then a strange alternative came to mind, unbidden. What if little-Andy had moved? What if I were not psychotic? What if I were just the same, kind of sad sack I'd always been, but not insane?

Impossible. But it wouldn't hurt to quickly rule it out. I walked over to little-Andy. It occurred to me, oddly, that he had a great smile.

"So, uh... I feel so dumb saying this. But if you actually did move on your own, I mean, if I'm not hallucinating this, now would be the time to tell me." I waited, listening, looking at my toes, and nothing happened, predictably.

I was kind of disappointed. I glanced back up at little-Andy, at the confirmation of my insanity, only to see that he was fucking frowning! "Holy shit!"

I squinted at him. Now I couldn't be sure if I was hallucinating or if little-Andy was moving. I mean, I hadn't seen him do it. I was a little frightened, sure, but more than that, I was intrigued. And I wanted to know if I had gone mad, for fuck's sake!

"Look, dude, if, if you are a you, if you are a bad spirit in my Andy figurine, fuck off. If you're not evil, then I'd like to know what the fuck is going on, because I don't feel insane." I changed tactics, maybe it was scared, if it was, well, an it, and I shouldn't be such a bitch. "Look, I'm sorry for being an asshole. I just don't understand why you seem to be moving. Most Andy figurines don't move. Can you talk? Do you speak English?"

I looked intensely at little-Andy. About a minute passed. Finally, I was rewarded with a heavy sigh. In Andy's voice, he replied, "Of course I speak English, everyone speaks English."