Heeey! So, I had a Beatle-related dream last night (shocker, right?) So, here goes.

I awoke to the annoying sound of my school's fight song coming from my phone alarm. I sighed groggily as it repeated, pushed the "okay" button on the screen, and rolled out of bed. The clock read 6:25. I sat back down to figure out what my dream was. As usual, I couldn't remember, and as always, it was a damn weird one.

Knowing I wouldn't figure it out, I got up, went downstairs, two at a time (I never go up or down my home stairs one at a time…weird…), and went to the kitchen to fix myself a bowl of Cheerios. I pulled back my hair to keep it out of my breakfast.

As I took a huge spoonful I felt a pair of arms snake their way around my waist.

"Mo'nin, luv. Y'know, I think I like you hair better when it's down."

I froze except for my jaw to keep chewing. When I finished my bite I turned my head to see someone's (a young man's) head on my shoulder.

"And who the Hell are you?" I asked.

The person stepped back and suddenly he looked familiar.

"Jane, it's me. Paul?"

I sat there on my stool in my blue pajama bottoms and green shirt (of a wolf's face, turning into a tree, turning into a peace sign), and looked at this strange person.

Paul? Who's that? Do I know someone named Paul? There's Paul Crawford, but that's Dad's friend…

I kept eating.

"Jane," he persisted. "It's me. Dontcha recognize me?"

"Not sure," I replied. "Now, why do you keep callin' me Jane? That's not my name…at least I don't think it is. For the past sixteen years people have been calling me Theresa now.

He looked about as confused I felt, but this really wasn't my problem.

"Sorry, 'Paul,' but I gotta get ready for school."

I got up and threw my cereal away because it had gotten soggy. I looked at the Beatles calendar above the garbage can to check the date. There was an adorable picture of the boys in black suits on stage and…

I sensed him behind me, looked around, and inwardly screamed. I was in my kitchen, in my pajamas, with Paul McCartney. And he was looking for Jane Asher. I facepalmed.

"Aw, man, this isn't happening. I mean sure, I'm practically dying from excitement-and the fact that you're not old- but I've got school in half an hour!

But he wasn't listening.

"Hey, we look pretty good here!"

Again, I facepalmed. With my fingers on my forehead I felt small bumps and then I remembered the breakout on my face from a few days ago.

God, I forget to wash my face ONCE and my skin goes ballistic!

I rubbed the spot I had gingerly, and for some reason, the fight song, and the French national anthem kept playing in my head.

Focus!

"Focus, Paul! So, lemme get this straight: you though I was Jane? Dammit, I'll bet it's 'cause I'm a ginger, right?

He smiled sheepishly.

I thought it over. "I guess that's not such a bad thing, though."

Then I woke up for reals, and it was 7:15. I facepalmed for reals, and ran out the door, only to find my friend had asked for a ride at 6:30. So I took a detour and was nearly late for school. But if I was late, meeting Paul McCartney would be a good excuse, right?

Not really expecting anything from this but here ya go :D If these continue I may do what Hoshi Nagaiki is doing.