Correction: You likely mean that in your dreams I used to be fun, until you didn't believe me about your talking rat, your Russian Terminator ex tried to beat me into a bloody pulp (literally), and you decided you didn't love me anymore, so that I left. And then we spent a very long time not talking, because the mere thought of you was like a kick to the bollocks for dream Pete until it was sorted out much much later on under less than favourable circumstances.
This Pete knows the difference between himself and other Pete, and I might be fun but we've had no other prior background to base it on in this real wakey time world, because we didn't know one another before I arrived here. We only knew the whole entire dream mess. I don't like to let that dictate what I do now, because I'm fucking stubborn that it's not going to cause my life to veer off course and be rubbish for long periods of time, due to various mistakes that dream Pete made. I'm smart. I learn from them.
Now that we've established that? Me, this Pete. You, this Kitty, not that Kitty. Pleased to meet you, even if we've had a few pints together and minced words on the interwebs before this point. May happiness and fun spew forth freely like so much pavement pizza.
Bloody hell. It's as though everyone needs a reminder of what's what past all the weird and bad dreams, now and again.