rèver.

love grows. - robert plant

A person that romanticized life, that's what people called me.  The people at school, the teachers, the adults, my co-workers, just anyone.  I would narrate everything I did as if it was being written in a pleasing novel.  Every time I pictured things, they ended up looking like a place Ophelia would be resting in.  I was a flower child, according to some people.  A mindless teenager with flowers in her hair and shirts with the most bizarre patterns to exist.  A girl that dreamed crazy fantasies, determined to make them come true.

Maybe I was odd, but we were living in the years of flower power!  Who wasn't somewhat strange?  The years where melatrons and synthesizers took power in music, guitar solos that lasted as long as you could dance for, and just music that was taking over the world.  I was living a life that took place in an orange hued dreamworld.  A world where everything seemed like a polaroid photo with a strong scent of patchouli.  Or maybe it was the psychedelics.  Who cared though?  Everyone was living the best possible life they could, a life where we could achieve our dreams.

At least Robert Plant understood what I meant.  My golden haired hippie, my soul-stirring lover, my everything.  We romanticized our lives together.  He wrote most of his thoughts down to turn into song lyrics.  He even spoke in lyrics; every word flew out of his mouth as if he was singing. 

One time we were laying in a park, in a place that seemed too saturated to be real.  With flowers that ranged from red to purple, but glew so brightly.  A weeping willow that had leafs a shade of green that I wasn't sure could be real.  The sun was setting, leaving the sky an unbelievable shade of orange.  The mountains that were so far away seemed to be like negative space.  Robert had gone to this place for inspiration to write.  According to him, the setting just brought all sorts of images and cheesy love poems to his mind.  As he wrote the song, he sang out each sweet word to make sure it sounded right.

If the sun refused to shine
I would still be loving you
When mountains crumble to the sea
There will still be you and me
Kind a woman, I give you my all
Kind a woman, nothing more
Little drops of rain, whisper of the pain
Tears of love's lost in the days gone by
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong
Together we shall go until we die, my, my, my
Inspiration's what you are to me
Inspiration, look 'n' see
And so, today my world it smiles
Your hand in mine, we walk the miles
Thanks to you, it will be done
For you to me are the only one

"How does it sound?"  Robert asked.

"It sounds lovely.  Absolutely lovely.  How do you come up with such things so fast?" 

"Oh, I don't know," a laugh, "I think of you."

I smiled at his kind words, as he smiled back just as big.  The sun reflected against his golden curls, making his hair seem like the stairway to heaven.  A lopsided smile that showed off his small dimples.  Blue eyes that reflected the sun's rays.  A man who looked kind and true just by looking at him.  The true embodiment of a perfect being.  I still question how I got so lucky with him.

We strolled down sunset boulevard that evening.  People dressed in pants that flared out, pretty blouses that had puffy sleeves, shoes that came in outrageous colors, and sunglasses that looked like John Lennon's glasses.  It was truly a wonderful place, a wonderful world even.  Teenagers without a care besides the concept of music and love on their minds.  It was such a beautiful world.

Once Robert and I arrived at his house, we immediately went up to the room where music was being played.  At the time, he lived with his bandmates.  Jimmy, Bonzo, and Jonesy.  They were some of my closest friends.  We all went to highschool together, I watched their band grow and advance, and I got to help produce their music.