Chapter 3: The message.

Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.

While packing up her things, she found some lost documents from her Grandmother and a VHS tape. She smiled. Although hopelessly obsolete, there were still some working VHS players in the House for the old tapes that the Friends had once made and watched endlessly.

She was excited to see the old woman again, even if it was just in the form of a video. Maybe there would be something on the tape that could help her, maybe a last-minute reprieve? Frankie snorted. Nothing could save Foster's Home. But she wouldn't be poor when the last of the land was sold.

There was her grandmother, the ancient withered Madame. "She looks so much younger. I must have been a little girl when she made this tape…" The tape was mostly useless, there were warnings and suggestions that the elderly woman made to the girl about caring for the Friends, taking care of the House. Nothing Frankie hadn't known how to do most of her life.

Frankie found herself crying at the useless information and the foolish old woman already five years in her grave. "Stupid old cow!" she snorted, but continued to cry.

But then came something unexpected. "Frances dear, I know what a burden the Home can be sometimes ("Got that right, you old harpy!"). You're still a child and I don't know when you're going to see this. Sometimes it all just gets too much for me. There's a place you can go. It's not real, at least I don't think it is… but if you're lonely… like I was… a comfort…"

The old woman paused, picked up the heavy old fashioned video camera causing the images to shudder and jerk. She pointed it at one of the closets in her room. The image steadied for a moment.

Then the camera was set back down and focused on her grandmother. "You may not remember, but when you first came to live with me, you were forbidden from coming into my room without my permission… Nearly broke…"

Frankie mouthed the words with the image on the screen, "… broke your fool neck."

"The Madame continued, "fool neck, playing where you didn't belong. You nearly scared me to death when you fell." The old woman stopped for a moment, lost in memory. "Anyway, when you see this, if you are feeling lonely then go to…" The tape stopped. Frankie watched it again… and again.

She was lonely.

Frankie opened the closet. The clothes were all gone, she had given her grandmother's clothes to various charities, but she pulled up the corner of carpet revealing a wooden panel that was easily dislodged. She had forgotten about this place. Dusty brickwork, broken stairs leading to a small chamber beneath the floor. There was an old dusty mattress and small crocheted pillow with the words "Sweet Dreams" in ancient stitches.

"Sweet Dreams. But I don't dream anymore." She said out loud, unaware that her eyes were already closing. She hoped for a sweet dream, maybe of a lover to take her from this place."

None of what happened next was real… dreams, right?

She "wanted" to dream of that terrible/wonderful last meeting with Mac.

But that wouldn't be what would happen…

Disclaimer: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story.