Beyond the Notebook

Dream Shopping and Unfolding desires

The next morning, the excitement from the day before hadn't worn off. I still couldn't believe it. I, Nora, was actually going to spend a couple of days with Zac Efron in his home in Byron Bay. The dream I'd scribbled in the notebook was becoming a reality, and I felt like I was walking on air.

After a quick breakfast and convincing my parents, again, that everything was going to be fine—despite their concerns about the long journey—I called Carmen. There was no way I was facing this new reality alone. I needed her with me, at least for the preparations.

"Let's go shopping," I told her when she answered the phone.

"Shopping?" Carmen replied, intrigued. "For what?"

"For my trip! I need the perfect outfit. Something that screams confidence, but not like I'm trying too hard."

Carmen laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm coming over. Let's find you something that'll make Zac Efron's jaw drop."

We headed out to our favorite boutiques, the ones tucked away in the quieter streets of Paris, where you could find unique pieces that no one else had. The first stop was for pajamas. Carmen had insisted on something special.

"You need a lace chemise with a matching robe," she said confidently as we browsed the racks.

"Lace? Isn't that a bit...much?"

Carmen shook her head. "Nope. It's perfect. It's classy, sexy, but still elegant. And, hey, it's not just for him; it's for you too. You'll feel amazing in it."

She pulled out a delicate black lace chemise with a matching robe. The fabric was soft to the touch, luxurious. I have to admit, it was beautiful. I nodded, and Carmen grinned. "This is it. Trust me."

Next, we searched for a dress. I wanted something special for our dinner—something that would stand out but still feel like me.

"Royal blue," Carmen suggested, scanning the dresses on display. "It's his favorite color, right?"

I smiled, remembering how much I'd read about Zac's preferences over the years. "Yeah, it is."

Carmen handed me a dress—royal blue, fitted, with a subtle sparkle that caught the light. It was simple but stunning. I could already imagine myself wearing it, feeling like the most confident version of myself.

"This is perfect," I said, holding the dress up against me. Carmen nodded in agreement, and we knew we'd found the one.

That evening, after the shopping spree, I found myself back at home, staring at the dream notebook. The past few days had been surreal. Every wish I'd written down had come true the next day. It was like magic, only real.

I decided to keep going, to see how far this could go. Every night before bed, I wrote down a new dream. The next morning, it was always there, as if the universe had conspired to make it happen.

On the first night, I wrote about having the most luxurious apartment in Paris. The next day, a realtor called, offering me a penthouse overlooking the Seine at an unbelievably low price. I didn't hesitate. I moved in that very evening, leaving behind the familiar confines of my parents' home for a new, opulent world.

The second night, I dreamed of owning my own film studio. I'd always wanted to be a filmmaker, to bring stories to life on the big screen. By the next afternoon, I received an email confirming the acquisition of a small studio space in Paris, fully equipped and ready for production. I named it "Norac"—a blend of my name and Zac's. It was a small tribute, a secret connection between us, even if he didn't know it yet.

On the third night, I wished to be dressed by the famous fashion expert Cristina Cordula. The following day, she called, out of the blue, offering to style me for an upcoming event. I could hardly believe it—my style icon, ready to help me shine.

And on the fourth night, I wished for my family to have the best villa, a place they could truly call home. The next day, my parents received an offer for a gorgeous property just outside the city, complete with a garden, pool, and enough space for all of us. They were ecstatic, though still a little baffled by my sudden string of good fortune.

But tonight, tonight was different. As I sat down at my desk, the notebook open before me, I didn't want to write a simple dream. I wanted to prepare for my meeting with Zac, to express everything I'd held in my heart for so long.

I dipped the feather pen into the inkwell, the rich blue ink shimmering in the light. Then, slowly, carefully, I began to write a love letter. Not a letter declaring undying love like any other fan might write, but something deeper, something true.

"Dear Zac," I began, the words flowing easily. "I know most girls tell you they love you, that they adore you. But I'm not going to say that, because it would make me just like them, and I'm not."

I paused, thinking about how to express what I really felt. Then, with a steady hand, I continued.

"I'm in love not with Zac Efron, the movie star, but with Zachary David Alexander Efron, the 36-year-old man who grew up in California. The one who's faced his own struggles, who's grown and changed over the years. I love the person behind the fame, the one who's real, who's genuine. That's who I want to meet, that's who I want to know."

I signed the letter with my name and my phone number, hoping against hope that he would read it, that he would understand.

As I finished, I felt a strange mix of emotions—nervousness, excitement, and a deep, inexplicable sense of peace. This was my truth, and soon, he would know it too.

Later that night, I stood on the balcony of my new apartment, looking out over the city. The Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance, its lights twinkling like stars. The sky above was clear, and I found myself gazing up at the moon, wondering if Zac was looking at the same sky, thinking about the same things.

I smiled to myself, a quiet whisper escaping my lips. "I hope you're looking at this too, Zac. I hope you see what I see."

The night was calm, the world around me peaceful, but inside, I was filled with anticipation. The days ahead were full of promise, of dreams coming true, and of the chance to finally meet the man who had unknowingly been a part of my life for so long.

But what I didn't know was that at that very moment, Zac was standing on his own balcony, thousands of miles away. He, too, was watching the moon, its soft light reflecting off the Pacific Ocean. His thoughts were distant, filled with the same quiet wonder, the same hope for something more.

Though separated by oceans and time zones, we were both under the same sky, both looking up at the same moon, unknowingly connected in a way neither of us could yet understand.