Alex drove me home and when I hopped off his Vespa I said, "You, sir, are so freakin' awesome, we should run lines together and stuff."
"Sounds like a plan," he said. We hugged and I went inside.
Grandma said after greeting me, "So, did he try anything?"
"What?!" I exclaimed.
"You heard me, Avril, did he try anything? Flirtait-il?"
"N-no," I said. "No, we're just friends. Best friends. We're gonna be running lines together, so get used to him."
"I will, he's the kind of lad who will treat you right," Grandma said before I went to my room.
"Because he's my friend," I said.
"I know you like him like that now, but just be sure, if he tries anything and you like it, it's fine with me."
"He's not gonna try anything and I'll have no reason to like it because it won't happen," I said. "I'm tired and smelly. I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed."
"Bonne nuit," Grandma said. I could tell in her voice that she was convinced that Alex was going to be my boyfriend. Sure, he was cute, and he would totally treat me right and if I had to choose between him and Aaron Samuels from Mean Girls, I'd go for Alex. I pondered this before going to bed and when I went to sleep I had a lucid dream.
I was in the same dressing room I dreamt I was in the first night I was hearing the Phantom-like voice, and instead of in my pink fleece Hello Kitty pajama pants and black camisole, I was in a Victorian-ish white nightgown I had seen in aPhantom production. I heard the same voice I had been hearing for a while say,"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory. Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph."
I was able to reply, it being a lucid dream, "First of all, as I told my grandma, he's an old friend who's now a best friend and I like it like that. Second…who the fuck are you?"
"Haven't you been paying attention to your dreams, Avril?" the voice said silkily. "You know who I am, but you're afraid of the truth."
"You seem very powerful, like you've been watching me," I murmured. I shook my head and said louder, "But if you have been, you might know that it's very hard to scare me."
"I'm aware of that, but you are afraid of something," the voice said.
"I'm not afraid of you, mister sir," I said boldly. "It'd be pretty cool if you could show yourself."
"Flattering child, you shall know me," the voice said. "See why in shadow I hide."I looked into the mirror of the dressing room and saw the very same Phantom appear beside me, but not for real. "Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside."
In the play, it seems that Christine is on an acid trip while she goes into the mirror and I didn't want to do that, even though I felt like I was on…something. It didn't make any sense that someone was playing with my dreams, so I told him so. "Are you, good sir, playing with my dreams?"
"I was," the guy in the mirror said. "I'm not anymore."
"Dreams are weird," I breathed.
"Have you just realized that?"
"No, I'm just remembering," I said. "But this is by far the strangest I've ever had."
"What makes you think this is a dream?" he said.
"Uhmm…I'm somewhere I've never been before, wearing something I've never worn before, I'm not feeling anything…I'm dreaming of what I believe to be a fictional character—"
"Life has lied to you," he said. "This is as real as real is."
"You're lying, you're a figment of my imagination," I said, even though I wasn't exactly so sure.
"Am I?" he said.
"Yes. This is a lucid dream, I can wake myself up if I want to."
"Then, don't let me stop you," he scoffed.
I pinched myself but nothing happened. I shook myself, nothing. I slapped myself, nada. I said, "Okay, maybe this isn't a lucid dream. I'll wake up at some point."
"Of course you will," the voice said. "But that doesn't mean I'm a figment of your imagination."
I sighed. "Well…who are you?"
"Take a wild guess."
"Um, well, it would be pretty sweet if I believed that you're the Phantom of the Opera, but where I'm from, those thoughts put you in straight jackets."
"If they're imaginary," he said. "This is not."
"I respect your opinion, but I'm very sure I'm just having a hard time waking up and am just going to enjoy this weird dream while it lasts for the maximum fifteen minutes."
"If that's what you believe, fine, I have no power to stop you. But I can disagree, can't I?"
"Doesn't mean I'll listen to you," I replied. "But to each his own."
"Hmm," he murmured. "You're a difficult one."
"That's not the first time I heard that remark," I said. "From teachers, it's an insult."
"I hope I don't offend you," he said.
"You don't," I replied. "You're not a teacher."
"Not like the ones you've had, but I have taught you a thing or two."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Well, what have you learned from The Phantom of the Opera, the novel?"
"Um…some people can be scary but if you like them enough, you can get past it. My mom's scary and I don't like her enough. The Phantom is supposed to be scary but I like him enough to not see that, just yell at him for doing some sordid things but forgive him later. To quote him, fear can turn to love."
"Gaston Leroux did not teach you anything," he said. "I did."
"Well, by how you're talking, you seem to be just a character that came out of his head, so he really did teach me that."
"Gaston Leroux was just a fool who wanted to write something better than the pieces of shit he tried writing before," he scoffed.
"Well, his things before Phantom weren't that good, I'll give you that," I said.
"Yes, you should, because I wrote it," he said.
"You wrote The Phantom of the Opera?" I said.
"I did," he replied. "I wrote the book, the musical, the movie adaptation from two thousand four."
"Did you write the other movies?"
"I did not, but I wish I did because they were awful."
"You're right," I said. "So…you wrote everything? And gave Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber credit?"
"They didn't know it was me," he said. "Leroux never investigated the Paris Commune, I did behind everyone's backs, but he heard about a body down there and wanted to write something about it but he couldn't, so I, out of pity, did for him. I told him not to take advantage of the fame he would get but he did and forgot about me."
"He died of a urinary tract infection…right?"
"Yes," he said.
"Don't tell me you caused it," I said, really believing this was the Phantom for a moment.
"I did not cause it," he replied.
"Good…'cause that's not cool." After a pause, I asked, "So if you wrote it and put yourself in it…is it a biography?"
"No, it was just thoughts. What would happen if, what would I do, what would other people do. It turned out to be well written but I myself couldn't publish it."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, maybe I'm just a solitary type and I prefer to watch people become famous because of me than become famous myself. I like the satisfaction of how I helped; they couldn't have done it without me."
"Whatever floats your boat," I said.
"And, as long as they don't become purple bastards about their fame, I'll remain pleased with myself and them."
"M'kay, as long as that makes you happy." After a while, I realized what he was doing in my dreams. "Are you tutoring me so you can get this satisfying feeling?"
"I am, but you don't require a lot of help," he said.
"Um, thanks. But I won't be too famous."
"But you're the star of a show at the Palais Garnier," he replied with a smirk. "You'll definitely be famous for it."
"No, it's only a chance that I'll be there," I replied.
"You'll be there, Avril," he said.
"Because of you?" I asked.
He nodded. I weakly smiled. "Thanks, that's pretty cool." After a silent pause, I asked, "So…why are you behind the mirror?"
"Why aren't you?" he asked.
"Um…you haven't invited me and I'm not too keen on that."
"Scared?" he smirked.
"No!" I exclaimed. "I am not scared, not one little bit! I'm just weirded out."
"There is no reason to be weirded out," he said as if he never heard the phrase before. "Just trust me."
"Rape me and I'll snap your neck, sonnyjim," I said.
"What makes you think I'd do that?" he asked seriously.
"I…I dunno."
"Come, Avril," he said softly. "Come to me, angel of music…"
I gave up. He was soooo freaking hot. He wanted me over there with him and I didn't think he'd hurt me so I slowly got up and walked towards the mirror. He held out his black-gloved hand behind the mirror and I figured I could just reach in and I could. I did. I stepped up into the mirror until I was in a candlelit beige hall, hand-in-hand with the actual Phantom of the Opera, the ghostwriter for Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. And some weird guy I developed a gigantic crush on. He slowly led me down the hall and I trembled. I was in the presence of the same guy who is armed with a Punjab lasso and kills people with it, but apparently wanted to get romantically involved with me. I knew very well he had the power to kill me if I denied or do something bad that I didn't want but I didn't want to deny him. After some slow walking, he said, "You're trembling, Avril."
"A-am I?" I asked nervously.
"Don't be frightened, I promised not to hurt you, and I wouldn't no matter what."
"I'm not scared," I said. After a while, I realized I told a lie. A big, fat ugly lie. For the first time in my life, I was actually really scared. I still wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not but no matter what, I was terrified. I tried to stop shuddering but no such luck.
He halted at an actual lake with a boat. I had read that there was indeed a lake under the Palais Garnier and firefighters used it to practice swimming in the dark. But I was still trying to wake up from a weird dream. He was about to help me in but I said, "N-nah, I got it." I got on, still shaking like a leaf. I gave myself subtle but brutal pinches and I thought the guy wasn't looking. But after a while of super awkward silence and no waking up, he said, "You can stop it now, you're not dreaming. You're quite awake."
"I…I'm not sure I wanna be," I said.
"Scared?" he smirked.
As if we were obnoxious little kids who didn't want to admit we were chicken, I lied, "I'm not scared at all."
"Then, what are you?"
"Confused out of my wits," I said.
"What? Didn't I answer all your questions?"
"N-n-yeah, but it's hard to process. You say you are t-the Phantom of the Opera…Erik is your name…"
"It's just a word that comes out of the mouths of people who choose to say it," he says. "Not many do when they mean me."
"That's deep," I said. "If you are the Phantom of the Opera…is this…the Paris Opera House?"
"It is," he replied.
I never break into song, I only chime in or mumble to a song that's already playing, but I blurted very quietly, "And do I dream again, for now I find…the Phantom of the Opera is there…inside my mind…"
I noticed him grin a really hot smile. That meant he liked it. I tried to hold in a bright red blush but I couldn't. I heard something rusty move and saw there was a gate with algae on the pointy bottoms. It was more extravagant than any Phantom's lair I've ever seen. It had all those candles, an organ with golden pipes, a plush red bed-like thing, but…more indescribable things. He rowed to the edge and I said, "I'm really weirded out again…then again, I never stopped being weirded out." The boat stopped and I breathed, "My sanity is hanging on a string."
He replied as he got off the boat, "Perhaps that may be a good thing." He offered me his hand and I accepted it. He helped me up and continued, "I'm sure you know why you're here."
"The seat of sweet music's throne," I quoted, looking around.
"Do you still think you're dreaming?"
"Yup," I replied.
"For God's sake, Avril, convince yourself you're not dreaming."
"For God's sake, Erik, convince yourself I'm in disbelief because I'm used to you being a fictional character."
He stepped closer to me until he was very close, close enough to put some of my hair behind my ear and slide his soft gloved hand down my neck. He said, "Well, get used to it."
I epically failed keeping in a shiver of half-terror, half-pleasure. He smirked a smirk I loved seeing as he walked backwards to a wooden box. Still looking at me, he opened it and I saw a record player with a blank record already in it. I tried to keep my cool and said, "Um, record player, cool, don't see them much anymore."
A really beautiful song I hadn't heard before came on, surprisingly clear, considering it appeared to be a really old record player. He strutted towards me and offered his right hand. "Dance?" he said.
"Um…I'm not real good, but…okay." If he were someone else, perhaps not as hot, I'd refuse but there was something about him that made me not want to refuse. I took his hand and let him put his free hand on my waist. I nervously put my other hand on his shoulder but realized I wanted to be closer so I wrapped it closer around his neck. He allowed me to do so and we slowdanced in silence for a while. I was really…I dunno, savoring each sensation, but I was also pretty scared. I murmured, "I-I'll admit, I'm creeped out right now."
"Why?" he said.
"Look at me, I'm dancing with what I was pretty frickin' sure was a fictional character, but now I'm here, he claims I'm not dreaming but I feel like I am…this is pretty cool…but pretty scary."
"It's okay to be afraid…but don't fear me," he said.
"I'm not scared of you…" I muttered. I added nervously a little later, "But…scared of what's happening."
"Are you?"
"Have you been listening to me at all?" I said. "I was a million percent sure you're a work of fiction, a really awesome fiction, now you've presented yourself and I really wanna stay sane and believe I'm dreaming but you're not letting me…" I realized how incredibly close I was to a probably complete stranger whom I know everything about. I ran out of words and he broke the ice. He smashed his lips soft and cold lips against mine, which were still trembling. I was shocked and showed it at first until I realized I wanted to enjoy it and he was giving me the opportunity to by doing the work. So I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.
I've never had a boyfriend, a love interest, even a crush (on people available to me). So, I've never kissed a boy. I didn't think I'd be any good at it and I wasn't so sure that Erik would be awesome either, considering that in the book and movies he's a virgin, but he was fantastic. It was so long, if people were watching it in a movie and it wasn't a porno or something, they would get bored. But we weren't bored. Erik said, "Real enough?"
After a pause, I murmured, "I…I…thanks, man…I think I needed that." And then I passed out like a wimp.