lucyoncolorado

Here's another to add to my list of dreams about meeting older musicians. It's inexplicable to me that these guys keep popping up in my dreams. I like their music and I'm a fan, but this is not the music that I listen to or think about on a daily basis. It's just strange that they keep popping up in my dreams!

In which I meet Paul McCartney at a diner...

I'm sitting in a white and red naugahyde booth at a retro soda shop. Outside the window to my right, people are walking back and forth with shopping bags, and up on the wall to my left, a television is blaring the news. My mother and my uncle A have just left me to continue shopping, but they pop their heads back in the diner to tell me that they'd just realized that they'd dropped a parsley plant out in the parking garage near the car. I nod to them and say that I'll go get it after I finish my burger.

I listen to the news broadcast. Beatles fans are angry because Sir Paul McCartney compared his former band to Darth Vader. The announcer cuts to a clip of McCartney himself making the controversial statement. I note that he obviously said something entirely different. He didn't mention Darth Vader at all, and in fact he compared the band to Frankenstein's monster. I think how this is typical of the media and return to my burger.

But in the booth across from my own is Paul McCartney himself. He is twisted around in his booth so that he can view the television. He notices that I'm watching him and he looks at me. Pointing at the TV screen, he asks, "What are they all upset about? Did you catch it?"

"They say you compared the Beatles to Darth Vader," I explain. "But that's not what you said." He gets up from his own booth and walks over to mine. He sits down in front of me so that we are now sharing a table. He looks a little annoyed and confused by the whole news story.

"Darth Vader? Well, do you know what I really said?" he asks.

"Yeah. You said that the Beatles became like Frankenstein's monster. I assume you meant that you created something that got out of hand and took on a life of its own," I answer.

"Yes- that's it. I remember now," he says. He smiles, and I start to think how exactly he looks like the same Paul McCartney that I've always seen. "I made that statement nearly 15 years ago. I don't know what they're getting so upset about."

"No, no," I answer. "It couldn't have been 15 years. They said it was in 2000." As soon as I say the words, I realize that it's been almost 15 years since the year 2000. It seems impossible to me that so much time has passed . Suddenly I feel extremely old. I feel like I've accomplished nothing in my life and that the time is flying past me faster than I can catch it. I almost tell McCartney that we are getting old, but then I realize how much older he is than I am. He didn't seem to waste a day of his life. So instead I just say, "My god. I waste too much time."

McCartney looks at me earnestly. I notice his wrinkled face and thinning hair. I compare him to the image on the TV just 12 years ago talking about Frankenstein. And even that image was several lifetimes removed from the days when he actually was a Beatle! I look back at the man in front of me and notice his elderly, liver spotted hands. But when I look up at his eyes, they are vibrant. I'm taken back to my experience earlier in the day with the poppies and the butterflies in my garden. I open my mouth to tell him about it, because at that moment I know he will understand. Then I remember the parsley.

Hurriedly, I excuse myself and run out of the diner and down into the parking garage. By the time I get to the car, I remember that the parsley is actually our three dogs. They'd been left behind in the car. I let them out of the car, and as I'm walking them back to the diner, I wonder if McCartney will still be there. I decide that if he is, I'm going to thank him.

Back at the diner, there is only my mother and A. I can't go inside anyway because I have the dogs, so I wave them out. We all walk back to the car together, and A tells me that he heard a rumor that Paul McCartney had just had lunch there. I find myself bragging about meeting him. I bury all the feelings of regret and insight, and instead I brag. I tell how Paul McCartney sat down at my table and we talked about the Beatles. I tell how I played it cool and didn't say anything fan-girlish. A and my mom are impressed, and they asked if I took a picture to post on FB. I say that I was being too cool about the whole thing to ask for a picture.

The experience with the poppies and the butterflies is something that happened to me yesterday (the day before this dream) but I don't have time to write about it here. This dream was very vivid, and I remember each word as if I were hearing it aloud. I think it's because I took Benadryl before sleeping last night since I had terrible allergies.