âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Bob Dylan (Part II) •

Wooo, this is a long 'un guys 😅 But it's quite sweet if I do say so myself, so I hope you stick around to enjoy it!

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Bob Dylan had disappeared into the wings a while ago, and you and Louise had slunk your way out as soon as you were able. This was mostly due to your impatience, which was currently being tested as you stood outside the ladies' toilets waiting for Louise. Together, you had huffed and sighed through the countless minutes that you had been forced to endure in the long que, as though your impatience would make the whole ordeal go quicker. If anything, it had done the complete opposite.

Now, you were checking your watch incessantly and cursing the seconds that didn't tick by faster. It had been almost 30 minutes since Bob Dylan had left the stage, and there was a worrying feeling nipping at your soul that you may be too late. After all, Bob had landed in England the day before, played a show that very night and then jumped straight on the road to perform the show that you had just seen - he was bound to be tired and unwilling to hang around.

Determined, you grabbed Louise as soon as she emerged and began to push towards what you hoped was your nearest exit.
Luckily, the gaggle outside had quickly dispersed since the concert's end, so you both managed to quickly pace around the corner and down the small alley that led to the stage door.

To your dismay, at least half of the crowd seemed to have done the same. Only when you saw the babbling fans gathered around the steps that mere hours before your idol had quietly spoken to you from did you realise that, of course, you wouldn't be the only ones trying to catch a glimpse of Bob Dylan.

There were girls and boys, men and women, skin heads and hippies all filling up the small back street, crowding the steps, hanging off the railings, just hoping to catch a glimpse of him. 'We don't stand a chance,' you thought with a sinking feeling. A quick glance over to Louise confirmed that she was thinking the same.

Before you could open your mouths, though, a deafening cheer rang out through the space, and you turned to see the stage door opening, forcing the sea of people to take a collective step back. First came the burly bodyguards, sullen looks on their faces as a warning to anyone who was drunk enough to push their luck, but then came the svelte figure of Bob Dylan. His curls were stuck up at odd angles, shirt ruffled and untucked, and eyes once again covered by sunglasses.

The cheering reached a crescendo as Bob waved with a small smile, addressing his fans with a simple hello. His voice sounded grating, worn down from his several hours of singing, but he looked in high spirits as he emerged like a king about to greet his eager courtiers. Behind him was a sizeable entourage of faces you also recognised, including Joan Baez, Donovan and Alan Price, and upon realising their presence, fans began calling out and cheering for them too.

At first, you and Louise joined in, enthralled by the record cover faces brimming with life and the buzzing excitement of their faithful fans all around you. But Louise began to tug you when she saw an opening in the crowd, and soon you were being unceremoniously dragged through a flurry of waving arms and stamping legs.

When you come up for air at the end of Louise's mad mission, you were almost in reaching distance of the stairway that Bob and his entourage were currently fighting their way down. Although you felt much better being that much closer to him, almost as soon as you and Louise had stilled you got a sharp elbow dug into your cheek and the deafening scream of a young girl as she tried to jump up and grab a hold of the stair railing above. Cradling your accosted face, you quickly pulled Louise into the hollow under the steps, which was mercifully void of dangerous fans.