Maya's POV
I was running down a brightly lit hallway, the walls were smooth and white, reflecting the light and blinding me. I didn't know what was chasing me. I only knew that I had to keep going. I looked back but all I could see was a sort of black fog, sticky black tendrils of it snaking the walls. I looked in front again, almost hitting a wall as it made a turn. The light was blinding me, the whiteness stinging my eyes, disorienting me, making me want to slow down. Suddenly, the walls flashed a green color, veering to a yellow, to an orange, to a red, to a purple and to a sea blue, replaying a rainbow on the walls. I was awed by the show as I found myself in front of a stage. The showlights flickered on and I noticed the presence of small wooden stools. Paul, John, George, Ringo, Robert, Jimmy and my father stepped on each of the stools. Their movements were so coordinated, alike and completely automatic, like programmed clones. They pulled their mouths up into a wide forced smile, and they each pulled a gun from their right pocket. They lifted them to their temples, to their mouths, to their necks. I gasped in horror as they all drew a deep collective breath and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shots, being drawn at the same time, magnified into a deafening sound. Blood flew, spluttering the back of the stage, the wooden floor, flying towards me, blinding my sight with red specks. I let out an ear-splitting scream, and I cried, thrashing awake.
''Maya. Maya.'' a voice called
''Maya. It's a dream.''
''Maya it's only a dream.'' the voice repeated again and again
''Maya, it's a dream, open your eyes, it's just a dream.'' I couldn't move. I could feel my arms pinned to my sides and my eyes sewn shut.
''Maya.''
''Maya !'' My eyes flew open and my vision was unfocused. I blinked a few times and stopped thrashing as I found George holding both my wrists with a firm grip.
''It's only a dream, love.'' he told me as he brushed back the hair from my clammy face and he softly let go of my wrists. I nodded and he wrapped his arms around me, cradling me as I sighed, recognizing George's familiar smell and familiar arms.
''Do you want to tell me?'' he asked and I nodded
'' Then, begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'' he added and I laughed as I recognized the Red King from Alice in Wonderland.
''I hadn't had a dream like that in months, two years ago, when my mother died, those dreams started, you were all in them, the four of you, Jimmy, Robert and my father. They were all atrocious, bloody, gory, everyone I cared about always died. I... I guess they're back. Sorry for waking you.''
'' You would have to be half mad to dream me up.'' he said, still in line with his Alice in Wonderland references. '' It's alright love, it's only a dream. And don't be afraid, you didn't wake me, I was the only one that heard you scream when I was going down the stairs and I came looking. You're not going mad, because we're all mad here.'' he added, smirking and I laughed a little
''I'll leave you, breakfast is ready, I think, remember you have to interview us today.'' he said as he let me go and stood up
''Oh, and one last thing.'' he said '' Yes, that's it ! It's always tea time.'' he finished off with a wink and closed the door.
I laughed nervously as the images from the dream began to disappear, erased by George's laugh and Alice references. With shaky hands I pulled on fresh clothes and braided my hair. I steadied myself in front of the mirror, carefully examinating my reflection, the dark circles under my eyes, my frightened expression. I took a few breaths and attempted a weak smile. I was almost content with my hair so I went downstairs. You could hear a great deal of noise coming from the kitchen. Robert and Jimmy were sitting at the table,sipping juice and coffe while they held identical newspapers. Ringo was stacking pancakes on a plate and overflowing it with syrup, I was relieved by this familiar image and I entered the kitchen. Paul and John were both wearing aprons, standing in front of the stove, one of them flipping pancakes and the other flipping bacon. They both had their arms stained with batter and their hair was powdered with flower. George was sitting on the counter, sipping tea and changing the radio stations, switching between classical music and jazz.
