Ain't She Sweet

2

I heard several voices now.

My curiosity got the better of me as I saw a small, peeping window close by; a driving force propelling me forward to such a convenience. From the view I had quite the way back, all I saw were a few amps and instruments lying about in a very spacious area, of which I assumed I could only have been at a recording studio of some sort.
But it was as I inched closer towards the small window, I saw the crystal clear image of a man I'd thought I'd never set eyes on, and I felt my jaw hit the floor at the very second my eyes caught glimpse of his face.

"And when I, I wanna kiss you yeah-"

I watched him sing in sheer bafflement. His every feature, and his every movement in tact.

"John." I whispered  breathlessly, raising a palm to the cool glass window.

There he stood. His guitar in hand, and his face reaching up for the microphone; a great and dazzling smile across his beaming face.

My mind began to spin vivaciously, a whirlwind of nonsense fogging it up and preventing me from seeing sense.
It couldn't be real, I mean, it had to be a dream.
John Lennon.
John Lennon was...dead.
And had been for decades now.
Before I was even born.

Yet as what seemed like unarguable fact raced through my mind, there I stood staring right at him; as fit and young as ever.

I turned instantly from him. I must have been going insane.
I pinched my arm. And again. And again.
Nothing.
Why wouldn't I wake up?
What was going on?

I laughed at myself in denial. It all seemed hysterical! I'd lost my mind! I had actually completely lost my nut.

I ran my fingers through my hair agitatedly, pacing back and forth as I ruminated.
It must have been a dream.
It had to be.
There was no other explanation.

I gave myself one last firm slap on the cheek in hope to prove my theory correct and wake up. Yet again, nothing happened.

However, this time, I came to the decision to simply embrace whatever illusion I was under than to let my sanity slip from my fingertips. I glanced to my wrist in a futile manner, half-expecting to find a watch I never wore nor had anyway. Surely, it would be time to wake up soon.

"Shake it off Grace, just shake it off." I chanted to myself, loosening my every rigid muscle with a little wiggle. "This is what you've always wanted, right? Enjoy it before reality hits you."

I smiled when I reached a standstill, my little pep talk having really convinced my mind that none of this was real.
Just have fun with it.

"Think that'll do fellas?" I heard John's thick Scouse accent echo as the music stopped.

With a suddenly urgency, I rushed back to my window view, only just now realising that the other three Beatles stood right beside him in the recording booth. I felt a slight pang of guilt I hadn't noticed them beforehand, but I suppose the single glimpse of John I'd caught was already enough to blow my mind.

"Yeah, well done John, that was great." I saw a young and captivating Paul McCarney stood beside him with his legendary, hofner bass in hand.

I was struck dumbfounded as I saw all four youthful members stand nonchalantly together. Was the light playing tricks on my eyes or-?

"Come on lads," I heard John announce to the group. "Let's call it a day. Yer' done good."

There were a few murmurs of agreement and exchanges of affirmative nods of the head, and before I knew it, I saw the handle of the studio door twinge as I realised they were all leaving.
A panic coursed through my veins as the door merely meters from me began to open, and the clatter of footsteps swarmed out.