Dreams Can Come True

30. Hilf mir fliegen

A slight tension hung in the air as I decided to call Bill about our idea to cover a song by Tokio Hotel. "Wait, I'll call Bill real quick," I whispered to Bas, who nodded in agreement. "And ask if it's okay with him that we use a Tokio Hotel song," Bas quickly added.
After a few rings, Bill answered with a familiar voice that immediately reassured me. "Hey, sweetheart," came the voice from the other end. A playful remark from Tom in the background made me smile before I politely greeted back. Georg and Gustav followed with warm greetings.
"Guys," Bill hissed irritably to his bandmates. "Sorry, I don't have much time, Elise. What's up?" he asked, and I noticed the urgency in his voice. "I'll keep it brief," I promised. "I can't find the song 'Hilf mir fliegen' anywhere. Where can I listen to it?" I asked, barely suppressing my curiosity.
"Hilf mir fliegen?" Bill echoed, and there was a faint undertone of confusion in his voice. "I don't know that song. I think I'd remember if I wrote something like that."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and I could see Bill shaking his head thoughtfully. "Maybe you dreamed about this song," he suggested. I pondered his words for a moment. "Maybe I did dream about it," I muttered, more to myself than to Bill. But then the pieces fell into place. "Wait a minute, this song doesn't exist in this world," I said, surprised.
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, as if Bill was processing the information. "What do you mean?" he finally asked.
"I mean, in my world, it's an existing Tokio Hotel song, but here, it seems to not exist," I explained. "It's as if it was never written here."
Bill was silent for a moment, and I could almost feel his thoughtful contemplation. "Maybe... I didn't even know that was possible."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me over the phone. "Maybe. It's just strange that I can't find it here."
"You know what, Elise? Promise me you'll sing it for me tonight," Bill said with a hint of playfulness in his voice.
A smile spread across my face. "Deal," I agreed. "I'll sing it for you tonight. But for now, I have to go; we have some work to do."
We said our goodbyes on the phone, and I looked at Bas with a mixture of excitement and astonishment.
"What did Bill say?" he asked, his curiosity evident.
"He doesn't know that song, Bas," I said, organizing my thoughts. "It just doesn't exist here."
Bas, always the supportive force, smiled and encouraged me. "Well, if it doesn't exist here, it doesn't mean we can't make it exist. Why don't you try singing it yourself? Who knows what unique spin we can put on it."
I hesitated for a moment. What if the song wasn't as good as I remembered? What if I couldn't live up to the original? Bas interrupted my thoughts with a reassuring smile. "There's only one way to find out. Just give it a try."
Suddenly, I felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement. I positioned myself behind the microphone, closed my eyes, and began to sing:
"Ich bin hier irgendwo gelandet, kann nicht mehr sagen, wer ich bin. Hab die Erinnerung verloren, die Bilder geben keinen Sinn. Bring mich zurück, bring mich nach Haus. Ich schaff's nicht allein hier raus."
As the melody echoed through the studio, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me. It was as if I was bridging two worlds, my own reality and this world that had led me to 'Hilf mir fliegen'. The sounds filled the space, and I knew this was more than just a song.

I opened my eyes and saw Bas staring at me in astonishment. His gaze spoke volumes of wonder and emotion. "How... how did you do that?" he asked curiously.
Bas quickly recovered from his surprise and smiled broadly. "Elise, that was beautiful! It's like this song was made for you."
I felt a warm glow of pride color my cheeks. "Thank you, Bas. It's just strange that this song isn't known here."
He grabbed his guitar and began to play something, a melody that matched the mood of the song. "Shall we try the chorus again?" he suggested.
Bas filled the space with his intoxicating guitar sounds, and I felt the music come to life. Together, we created something new, something that came straight from our hearts. The lyrics of the chorus repeated like an enchanting mantra, and I knew we were creating something special.
After singing, we looked at each other, and there was an unspoken understanding between us. This song was more than just a cover; it was a creation that came from the deepest corners of our souls. I felt filled with an unprecedented energy, as if I had discovered something essential.
Bas smiled contentedly and began to add more chords, the melody slowly evolving into something new. Together, we worked on the music, and the song began to take shape.
We experimented with the arrangements, added new elements, and perfected the harmonies. It felt like a creative flow, with Bas and I complementing each other and bringing the song to life. The lyrics, originally an echo from my world, now gained meaning in this reality.

Later that afternoon, Paul once again entered our studio, his presence filling the space with a serious atmosphere. "Which song are you going to add to our setlist?" he asked, his gaze focused on Bas and me.
Bas didn't hesitate and played the sample we had just recorded. The music filled the space, and I could see the curiosity in Paul's eyes as he listened attentively. After the song, he clapped his hands and smiled broadly.
"Wow, that's amazing!" he exclaimed excitedly. "It's incredible that you've created something so powerful in such a short time. This will be a great addition to our setlist."
His words filled the studio with a warm feeling of satisfaction. It was nice to know that our efforts were appreciated. Paul looked at us with a gaze of admiration, "I have to say, you guys really have talent."
He then asked if we wanted to join the staff meeting with Tokio Hotel. Bas and I looked at each other and both shook our heads. "No, thanks," I said with a laugh. "Meetings aren't really my thing; luckily, we have you for that."
Paul laughed understandingly. "I get it. You guys focus on the music; I'll make sure everything is taken care of administratively."
With those words, Paul bid farewell and left the studio, leaving us with a sense of pride and excitement.