I'm Only Sleeping

By Hoshi Nagaiki

A/N- Well, I had this dream a while back, after my anime convention escapades, and I told my bestest friend in the whole universe/boyfriend that I'd type it out and so here I am. I'm also thinking that maybe I'll post a few more of my Beatles-related dreams on here since I tend to have them every once in a while. -coughcough- Okay, a little more than once in a while. Enjoy ! ^.^

Dream One

The Convention

I slammed down my controller and stalked out of the dark room that was lit only by the many glowing screens. Sometimes, I couldn't stand video games. Mostly because I sucked at them, even Beatles Rockband and I played that on a daily basis. I just don't have any hand eye-coordination and that severely limits me in video games. . . . Yes, that's my excuse and it always will be; it was my excuse for dropping out of softball too.

On the way out, a pimply twenty something year old guy with dark hair and a bright blue polo shirt handed me a survey card. I grudgingly grabbed a chewed up pen from a metal container on the desk located conveniently next to the exit and began to fill out the survey.

"Name?" it asked. I scribbled 'Megan' as illegibly as possible. It was always funny when they sent you mail and your name was misspelled. One of my potential colleges sent packages to a 'Nazon', who I guessed was me.

I sighed. There was only so much I could do to entertain myself. I wondered why I had agreed to come to this stupid gaming convention in the first place. Well, actually, I knew why. His arms pulled me into a hug.

"You can go back to your game, Jonathon. I just need a break; I died within the first two seconds the last twenty-six times."

After being with Jonathon for almost two years, I knew him pretty well and I knew how much he wanted to continue to play the brand new game they had running in the screen-packed room. It was a long awaited sequel and wouldn't be revealed again to the public for another six months. This could be the only way to satiate his video game thirst. And, I did not want to deal with that thirst later.

"No, it's okay," Jonathon said as he took a survey from the geeky guy in the Best Buy-like polo. He ruffled my already messy brown hair. "I'll just hang out with you."

I grabbed the pen container before he could grab a pen. "Go," I urged him. "I know you want to. I'll just walk around the Dealer's Room aimlessly for a while; I don't mind."

"All by yourself?"

I rolled my eyes. Even my boyfriend treated me like a child sometimes. "Yes, all by myself."

Jonathon glanced back at the room with the many video game filled screens, his brown eyes staring longingly at it, and then he turned back to me. "You sure you'll be okay?"

I nodded and handed the survey to the guy who was now messing with one of those little Poke ball game things that everyone at these conventions carries around. Honestly, I had no clue what you do with those tiny Poke ball things, but whatever it was, it distracted him so much that he didn't even look up at me when he took the survey card.

"Have fun!" I told Jonathon as I walked to the door.

He kissed me on the cheek, his dark brown bangs almost hitting my eye. "See you later," he said and scurried back to video game land.

As I strolled around the halls of the convention, searching half-heartedly for the Dealer Room, I saw a sign that grabbed my immediate and focused attention. I could have sworn it said the name, 'Paul McCartney.' I was probably wrong, though. It had happened more than once that I had thought I'd seen something related to the Beatles, rushed over, and found, to my utter disappointment, it had nothing to do with anything.

I read the sign a second time and still saw 'Paul McCartney'. Maybe, I needed new glasses because there's no way Paul McCartney could be here. He had much better things to do than attend some lowly video game convention for no reason at all. Besides, I would have known he was here. The convention would have advertised it; everyone in the state would know.

Then, I saw the roaring crowd. A humongous group of people had swarmed around an even bigger sign that flashed his name in bright, neon colors. I wondered briefly how he could breathe in that mass of bodies and then, I realized I couldn't breathe. I felt like one of those girls on the Beatlemania videos that you see being carried away by the EMTs. Surely, I was going to faint or pass out. Wait, isn't that the same thing? My thoughts were jumbled. I screamed because I couldn't think of anything else to do.

I ran into the endless multitude of people just as excited as I was who were hoping just to at least glimpse the 'cute Beatle'. My heart raced and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. I pushed my way through the deafening crowd mosh pit style. Apparently, Paul McCartney didn't have anything better to do. . . .

After heartlessly shoving older women and little children, I ended up staring into the hazel eyes of the one and the only Sir Paul McCartney. Okay, now I was definitely going to faint. I clutched onto the metal table in front of me so I wouldn't die right there. That would be really embarrassing. And, there was no way I was going to humiliate myself in front of Paul McCartney.

Paul seemed accustomed to my reaction. He smiled and waited patiently as I regained whatever I was losing—my mind, my consciousness, my life. Maybe, even all three. I don't know. I just definitely know I wasn't all there when I saw him.

Suddenly, the horde of fans, or slime balls who just wanted to make money off his autograph, disappeared. Maybe, it was all in my twisted head but I was alone with the Paul McCartney. He was older than he usually was in my dreams but that didn't matter.

"Hi," I muttered shyly.

"Hello, luv. Was there something you wanted me to sign?" He still wore that charming, patient smile, the one that made me want to melt at his feet.

I blushed and nodded, reaching into my favorite pink and purple Harry Potter bag. Though I hadn't been prepared to meet Paul McCartney today, I had to be carrying something Beatles-related in my bag. I almost always was.

But, there was nothing. All I had were the stupid papers for the convention, a black concert t-shirt, money, food . . . . And then, as I dug through all that crap, I found the perfect thing that I didn't even know I had: a Beatles cookbook! On the cover, all four Beatles were pictured wearing aprons and carrying random kitchen utensils like spatulas, frying pans, overly huge knives. . . .

Paul burst out laughing when I placed it in front of him, causing my heart to beat at an impossible rate. "Where did you find this?" He asked as he grabbed his Sharpie.

"In my bag," I said in a whisper so low I might as well have not said anything. I still couldn't believe I was actually talking to Paul McCartney! Paul McCartney!

He opened the book and signed the inside cover on a grinning picture of his twenty two year old self about to empty a bag of flour on John's head. "There you go," he said as he handed the book back to me. "I have to go now, luv," he told me. All I heard was 'luv' and the light-headed feeling that comes right before fainting passed over me again. "Thanks for stopping by." The sixty-eight year old Paul McCartney stood up and let a bodyguard escort him out. For a second, I watched him leave with what I imagined was a stupid, dazed look.

Then, I'm not sure what came over me, but I followed him. Sneakily, of course. I hid behind the fake plants that garnered the convention hotel and listened to Paul McCartney chat with the bodyguard about some fancy restaurant I'd never heard of. Nobody noticed I was following.

He exited the hotel through the sliding glass doors and just when I thought it was safe to follow, I heard my name.

"Megan! Where were you?"When I turned around, Jonathon threw his arms around me as if he hadn't seen me in years. "What have you been doing?"

My eyes shifted from side to side and I whispered, "I'm stalking Paul McCartney."

He rolled his eyes. Sometimes, my addiction with the Beatles annoyed him, especially when I went into crazy fan girl mode like now. "Don't you think that's a bit overly obsessive?"

"I'm just curious, okay?" I snapped defensively. He was right; this was kind of psycho of me, but then again, it was Paul McCartney! What else was I supposed to do?

Jonathon sighed and grumbled, "I'll cover for you."

I squeezed him tightly. "Thank you so much!"

With that, I hurried through the shiny sliding glass doors, knowing full well I'd have a restraining order with the beautiful signature of Paul McCartney hanging in my bedroom soon.

End of Dream One.

A/N- Yep, that's where I woke up. So, what did you think? Pretty weird, huh? Especially, the Beatles cookbook. Do you guys dream about the Beatles as well? Please tell me I'm not the only crazily-obsessed one!