Dance With Me

Dance With Me - Part 1 (MJJ Imagine No. 27)

Imagine standing there looking out the front window watching three black SUVs make their way down the driveway away from the Center for the Arts. You continue to watch car after car pull out and follow Michael Jackson's SUVs.

The poor guy rehearsed all day and still gave himself completely to them during tonight's performance. Can't they give him a break? Are they seriously going to follow him to his hotel? Don't they realize their need to see him may be once for them but it's non-stop for him?

You shake your head and continue to watch for a few more minutes. When you're certain the public has left, you turn and walk toward the dressing rooms. After a couple minutes, you peek in one of them and gently knock on the door.  "Ready to head out?"

Michael Jackson looks up and smiles at you.  You see the exhaustion in his face.  "What would I do without you?"

"Bite your tongue, hold your head high, and hope you don't pass out from exhaustion while meeting the crowds."

"Yeah," he quietly responds.

"You really need to take it easy the day of your performances."

"Easier said than done.  I'm a perfectionist."

"A perfectionist who's also extremely tired from a fourteen month world tour that ended three days ago, who just rehearsed all day and gave a performance tonight, and who still has two more benefit concerts tomorrow and the next night.  Michael, you're so tired that you have no energy to meet with your fans.  When have you ever sent your bodyguards back to the hotel alone, letting your fans think you were in one of your SUVs?"  He looks down and you walk over to him.  "Come on," you tell him as you take his hand.  "Let's get you home so you can go to bed and get a good night's sleep."  He stands and you lead him to the side door of the Center then out to your car.  As you drive down the driveway, you look at Michael and see he leaned the seat back and his eyes are closed.  You spend the seventy-two minute ride to your house driving in silence listening to the soft sounds of Michael lightly snoring and the pitter-patter of rain against the windshield.  After pulling into your garage and turning off the engine, you look over at him and place your hand on his arm.  "Michael," you quietly say while gently shaking his arm.  "Michael, we're home."  He jumps and opens his eyes, looking at you startled and a little dazed.

"Already?  I must have fallen asleep."

"You were out before we pulled onto the road."

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to fall asleep on you.  I wanted to talk to you."

"It's okay, we can talk tomorrow.  Take your time.  I'll go in while you wake up."  He nods in acknowledgement then rubs his hands over his face.  A few minutes after you walk into the house, Michael walks in.  You see him looking up the staircase to the second floor with a puzzled look on his face.  "Have a seat and I'll explain."  He looks at you and walks into the kitchen and sits at the table.  "Want something to drink?"

"Just a glass of water for now."

"No wine?  I have your favorite."

"Too much of that on tour sometimes."

"That bad?"

"You weren't there with me."

"How bad?"

"Passed out a couple times."  You close your eyes for a quick moment then very slightly shake your head.

"You know I would have been there if I could have."

"I know."

You fill a glass with water for him and sit down across from him.  "Want to talk about it?"