Like Dreamers Do
By: Z. P. Marr
Chapter One: What the Muffins Just Happened?
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-A Dream Within a Dream, Edgar Allen Poe
The words wash over me, and fill me with silent wonder. "I Want To Tell You" is next on shuffle. That's just the way I feel about George! I think to myself, resolutely setting my alarm for 6:30 am, ridiculously early. Pulling the covers up to my chin, I close my eyes as "What Ifs" dance across the dark canvas of my mind.
Wouldn't it be cool if I could go back in time and meet the Beatles? I might be able to save them from themselves…With these last thoughts on my mind, I drift into dreamland, all dreads of tomorrow slipping away.
"Kids! Kids! Okay everyone, over here! Welcome! This is one of New York's most famous hotels." The hyper tour guide said in a Brooklyn accent. Her ginger ponytail bounced with every step.
"New York, concrete jungles where dreams are made of…" I quietly sang to myself. Ian St. Martin smiled at me. "We're in the land of dreams now, Molly." He said, blue eyes twinkling. He was the sweetest of boyfriends, and everything he said seemed to make me smile and wonder how I scored so lucky.
Our guide was going on about how many famous people had stayed in this hotel, and her squeaky voice was giving me a headache. I tuned her out and leaned against Ian's firm chest. Though only eighteen, he was already on his way to becoming the national running champion. He had gotten into Yale on a free scholarship with his talent. Oh, and he was wicked smart, too.
My best friend Kate McKenna looked at us laughing quietly together and rolled her eyes. Paul McCartney was the love of her life, and no plain old American boy could rise above him and his godly voice. According to her, anyway. Except Edgar King, who had the voice of an angel, also according to her. He had all the girls in our high school fawning over him, even though I said he looked like a girl.
We were on a school trip. I had been to New York a ton, so it wasn't very special. All I wanted to do was go see the John Lennon memorial, but our chaperones said that wasn't in the plan. Not everyone enjoys good music, apparently.
"Wait, what just happened?" I asked to nobody in particular. Everyone was gone. Oh wait, never mind, I saw Kate and Ian standing there, it would be cruel of fate to tear us three apart. I gazed down at the floor. It and the wallpaper had been an ugly puke green with gold flowery-things. Now they were an even uglier 50 year old rusty Chevy color. Then confusion hit. Was this a joke? Was I back at the youth hostel, fast asleep, Kate in the bunk under me and Ian in the boy's dorm down the hall? Or could this be real?
I was a believer in the unbelievable, and my mind went on overdrive. Aliens? Drugs? Science experiment? Magic? I began looking for hidden cameras, then checked myself. Don't be silly, if the scientists are any good, you will never find the cameras. Play along. Then I mentally laughed at myself. Just go along with it, see what happens. My brain did that sometimes, made me think that the world was a movie, and I was the star. I put away the spy and fought my way back into reality.
I reached for Ian's hand. Kate was smiling dreamily into space.
"Hey Kate!" I said. She turned to me and pulled out her earphones.
"Yeah?"
"Is it just me, or was the wallpaper green a minute ago?" She shrugged as a policeman came around the corner.
"What are you doing here?" he asked impatiently. "This floor is reserved for the Beatles." Beatles. I must be dreaming! Time travel, how cool! But why?
"What?" asked Ian, "aren't they dead?" I looked at him in mock horror, and he smiled at me and squeezed my hand.
"I wont have any nonsense from you kids. Now move along." He placed his hands on his hips and glared, daring me to run.
"What's the trouble Officer?" asked a Scouse accent behind us. I was busy attempting to stare the policeman down, so I didn't notice Kate.
"Paul McCartney" she said reverently. I spun around so fast my hair hit Ian in the face.
"Yeah, I'm Paul." Said the incredibly famous Paul. "And sir, these kids are with us. C'mon guys." We obediently followed. I stared at the back of his blue-black mop top, too stunned for words.
"Hey, uh Paul? What year is this?" Asked Ian.
"1964. But what year did you think it was?" he said quizzically.
"Well, we were in 2012, in New York." I said nervously, regaining my voice.
"This is New York, I'm pretty sure." He said with a laugh. "2012? Gee, that's a long way away. Who's Prime Minister?"
"Uhhh" said Kate.
"I don't know England…" Ian said. He looked at me and I shrugged. "Why'd you say we were with you?"
"Oh, well I know how annoying coppers can be sometimes, so I figured I'd keep you from getting in trouble. You also looked kinda odd, your clothes are…different. Something told me that I needed to help you." He looked just about as perplexed as I felt. He didn't know what he was doing either.
We arrived at the hotel suite door. He opened it, revealing a large suite behind. The door surprised me, it was just a normal door. All my life I had been accustomed to the type of hotel door that locks with an electric lock and you needed a card to open it.
The suite was elegant, with lacy curtains artfully draped across large windows. The floor was dark wood, and two cream and gold armchairs and a couch surrounded a classy glass table. Through a small doorway, there was a small kitchenette with a white marble floor. There was the main room with sofas and armchairs, which was large and open, and along the walls, three doors led out. I later learned that two of these were bedrooms, both with twin beds. The other was a spacious bathroom, complete with white and gold marble tiling and a large Jacuzzi.
The boys had obviously been there for a while because there was a stack of pizza boxes by the door, a couple guitars lying about, and sheets of paper covered in illegible scribbles that I took to be songs.
"Hi Paul." Said John looking up from his book on the couch. I pulled my phone out to check for signal. There wasn't any. He looked curiously at me, and I tried to explain.
"This is my cellphone. It's basically a telephone that you can carry around with you everywhere." I said.
"They're from 2012." Paul added. John started.
"2012?" he asked, sitting up fully and staring at us. "How on earth did you get here? And who are you?"
"I'm Molly" I replied, "and these are my friends Ian and Kate."
"We don't actually know how we got here." Ian said, casting a glance around the room. "Hey, aren't there four of you?" he asked.
"Yeah," but John's "yeah" had a bit of an r at the end, so it sounded like "yearh", because of him being from Merseyside, in Liverpool.
"Well, where are they?" Ian asked.
"Not sure, out someplace. They'll be back soon though. But how-" He was interrupted by loud shrieks from outside. I ran to the window, and the sight below amazed me. There were thousands of girls, jumping and screaming and carrying on like they were at a concert instead of in front of a hotel.
"Cute, aren't they?" Said Paul, coming up to stand beside me. Kate was staring bug eyed at him. I moved away before she attacked me for being within ten feet of him. You see, Kate has kind of a thing for James Paul McCartney. Her blue eyes got wider as he turned and approached her.
"Gahhh…P-p-paul…" She managed.
"Haha, yeah." Paul said with a smile. His accent wasn't so pronounced as John's. I remember reading somewhere that his mother taught him the Queen's English. She didn't want him to talk common scouse, because generally, in England, people with that accent are looked down upon. It's like English redneck.
Just then, the screams got louder. I went back to the window, and looking out, saw a mass of girls surge towards the middle. It was like two tidal waves coming to meet in the center. And among the cloud of beehives, purses, posters and pink claws, I saw two dark moptops fighting to the door.
The shorter one was following the taller, with his hand on his shoulder. The taller had an arm across his face, and another out in front, fending of the attack.
I felt someone come up beside me, and I heard John say,
"Stupid gits, shoulda snuck in the back. Now we gotta go get 'em." He looked me up and down, and I began to get uncomfortable. "We could use your help." He said. Worry for his mates was shining through his coarse shield. "'Kay, what I need you to do is take those glasses off, take your hair down, and…oh you've got a mouth full of metal." He glared at me like it was my fault.
I ran my tongue over my braces. "What are we doing?" I asked, exasperated.
"We're creating a diversion. Just don't smile."
Paul butted in, "aww come off it John, she doesn't have to be perfect, just don't let the girls get at her."
"Wait, what are you doing?" Asked Ian. Took long enough.
Paul answered him. "I usually have a pretty good idea what's running through John's head, and he and I are going to take these ladies," here he winked at Kate, and I stood up a little straighter. "And get the girls' attention. Once they look away, at these two with a Beatle each, they'll be consumed with jealousy and ignore Ringo and George." He smiled smugly, and he and John shared a look.
"An' they'll be able to get the bloody 'ell away!" Cried John, laughing.
"But we've gotta make sure the girls don't hurt them. They can be mean." Said Paul. "How old are you…Molly, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, seventeen." I said.
"Well she was just seventeen, you know what I mean, whooooooooo!" Sang John in a high-pitched voice. "But girl, you're gonna be eighteen, alright?"
"John." Said Paul sternly. "That's not how you 'whoooooo'. You have to shake your head like this." And we got to watch real live Paul McCartney whip his moptop around and 'whoooooo' like I'd only seen him do on YouTube with millions of girls screaming at him. Kate almost fainted.
"Right, yeah, okay Macca." John said dismissively. "Molly, come 'ead." He said to me, grabbing my hand. As he did, I heard a sharp intake of breath from the couch. Ian, slowly turning red in the face, fists clenched, said " Lennon, cut it out. She isn't going anywhere with you! I know what you do, you do drugs, and cheat on your wife, Molly told me!"
"Ian, stop! He doesn't do drugs-" Yet. I was about to say. But at the mention of Cynthia, his wife, his shield cracked a little more. He covered it well, though.
"Hold it tiger, I'll bring her back. She's a looker though, real cute in the-"
"JOHN!" Paul said, with a shocked look on his cherubic face.
"FACE. Face, McCartney. Don't think so dirty." He replied innocently.
Ignoring John, Paul held out his hand to Kate, and she took it.
"Are you alright luv? You're shaking like a leaf." He asked, concern in his eyes.
"Oh, m-m-me? Yeah, I-I'm fine."
"Just making sure." He said with a smile that made Kate's heart beat so hard and fast I could hear it.
John dragged me out the door, with Paul and Kate following us.
