Almudena

Chapter 8:

IMAGINE

And then, dear reader, as the night progressed, various memories and realisations began to dawn on me, although I was yet to come to full clarity about what was happening and my role in it. And, as I said in the beginning, I still don’t know exactly what this story is for or about, but it is possible that writing it will help me understand. And it might even help you understand. Who knows.

In any case, Terry, Mitch and I had finished dinner and we were having these really tasty mocktails. And somehow, without asking them anything, I remembered that in this locale, the 5th dimension, there is no alcohol. It is not forbidden; it just doesn’t exist, because everyone is able to reach within themselves for whatever joyful, animated, euphoric or ecstatic mood they want to be in, and find it. So, when you are having mocktails with people, you are enjoying the delicious fruitiness but also the friendship, the connection, the comfort and excitement of being with each other. And in this realer world of the 5th dimension, you don’t need any mind-altering substances to do that. All you need is you.

And as I was thinking all this, and somehow still managing to listen to Terry and Mitch talk about narrative conventions (a topic that may sound boring to you right now but I hope to make it fascinating at some point), a band came onto the stage at the back of the terrace. And the band, as implausible as it seems, was The Beatles. And even if I am not really a Beatles fan, far from it, this particular performance was to my liking.

They heavily leaned George-ish, playing some of their more wholesome and mystical songs, and sparing us the randier and more saccharine-sweet stuff. For example, they didn’t play “All You Need Is Love”, a song that would have sort of fitted with my train of thought in that moment but is way too cheesy for me. Instead, I remember beautiful spirited renditions of “I Wanna Hold Your Hand”, “I, Me, Mine” and “Across the Universe”. And “Don’t Let Me Down” must have been in there as well, because I distinctly remember John hollering: “IT’S A LOVE THAT LASTS FOREVER, IT’S A LOVE THAT HAS NO PAST!!!!!”.

And The Beatles finished their set, and John Lennon came to our table, nodded in Mitch and Terry’s direction, and shook my hand and introduced himself to me (me!). And he was long-haired, hippyish and happy and full of boyish charm, and nowhere near as weird as he became later in life.

And he said: “Haha!!! I knew there was a Spaniard in the works!!!”

And I said: “Sorry, what?”

And he explained that in the early 60s he’d had a vision that, before the world goes terminally insane, before we destroy ourselves with wars and greed and corruption, a special baby girl would be born in Spain, and she would grow up to be a way-show-er for those who were ready to be shown the way. And she would be a sort of “Spaniard in the works” (spanner-Spaniard – get it?) who would change the course of history, in a good way.

And he told me that he had been so sure, back in the 60s, of this vision or prophecy of his, that he wanted to write a book about it, but his mind was too addled by drugs and adulation and bad decisions, and he didn’t manage to write the right book, but wrote instead a bunch of ugly and delusional nonsense. Only the title was right.