At the count of three

Chapter 1 Part 1: I said I'll see you soon because I whistle to a different tune

3,2,1!

Time to go to stage. With my guitar hanging from the black band and with my hands sweating in consequence of being totally nervous I was about to face my crowd. The crowd that had been with me in every single moment of this long way. When the lights had been turned off I went out after jumping a little bit to warm up. The crowd was shouting my name and the orange lights started lighting my back making me to sweat more despite being February. When I got to my position I grabbed the micro to adjust it to my height, but when I was about to start to sing I heard a further voice mixed with the crowd's shouting. No, it didn't belong to the public, it was further, maybe in my subconscious.

"Ali, get up or you'll be late" It was my mum. Everything was a dream, too real but a dream. I had been dreaming that over weeks, even months! Since I got the news that I had been hired in a studio in Dublin. After spending many summers working so I would be able to pay the trip and specially the apartment which I rented in the Irish capital city, all efforts were worthy. I got hired in a music studio in the city center, I would begin working as one of the secretaries of the boss but I hoped to get ascended as soon as possible.
I took the few things left in my room: the phone, the two suitcases that I would bring and a backpack with all the necessary stuff for the two hour journey. My room looked weird being empty when it was usually full of school notes, posters of my favorite bands and films, CDs on the shelves near the book and the army of teddy bears. I could only bring with me less than half of the things, such as the CDs (which were the first thing I packed) or clothes. The rest would be placed in the attic because this room would become my granny's room who would be living with my parents from now on.
After getting dressed with what I prepared the night before I went downstairs to say goodbye to mum, who would be at home while my dad would drive me to the airport.
With my guitar at my back and holding my backpack, my mum hugged me tight as a way to say goodbye. Although the light was weak, I could realize that some fugitive tears scaped from the prison of her eyes. I went out from the building that had been my home for twenty years to get into my dad's car. However, the relationship with my dad wasn't as good as with my mum, he completely disagreeded about what I was doing: dropping out Tourism degree to become a well known singer, and also leaving my country to try my luck in a completely different one was for him inmature and childish. For me it meant following my dreams and try to make them real.
When we got to the airport, my dad went with me to check the luggage and we said goodbye before getting to the police control.
"One day you'll get home and you'll say I was right, what you're doing is stupid, you will soon realize it and I'll say: I told you"
After this intervention from my dad, instead of saying something against him I turnt around and headed to the police control without even turning to look at him, like I did everytime he reproached me when I showed him that I wanted to follow my dreams.