𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 | GEORGE HARRISON

𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 "𝘪𝘵"

over the course of the next week or so, i knew i had to
make my move and buy the plane tickets. if i didn't, i'd be letting george down. but my father had other plans.

i asked my father after i woke up from that dream. the words flowed out of his mouth with ease, and i could already tell they were bad. it was as if he'd practiced saying it. he probably did.

"no," he simply said.

"but-" i tried to butt in, but he stopped me.

"the answer is no, caroline." my father said and walked away. all i asked was if we could take a family trip to the united kingdom for fall break, and he said no!

george eventually explained to me that if i really wanted to meet him, it was crucial for me to go to that record store.

now, did i want to meet him? yes, i wanted to meet him even more than anyone in the whole world. but due to me being born a few years late, i thought it would never happen. it would never happen, right?

i turned away in anger and confusion. my father always said he'd take us to london one day, so why not over fall break? i slowly trudged back up to my room, knowing i'd have to call for desperate measures.

which was the the internet. oh, the internet. i told george all about it. he was a bit confused at first, but after a while, he understood the concept.

in case you didn't know, in september, george harrison had appeared in my dreams and i found myself thinking about him more than ever. he offered me to time travel, and i didn't know whether or not to take him up in it in fear of him just being apart of my imagination. and yet, i accepted his offer all the while.

it was another tuesday. very close to when george wanted me to fly to london. in fact, it was only a day until the twentieth. i made sure to check ticket prices everyday. the lowest i could get was two-hundred, but that was fine. i saved up my money and i had just that, if not more. i didn't dare tell anyone. it was embarrassing, anyways.

and on that particular day after school and after all my extra curricular activities, i came home and wondered what to do. my parents weren't home from work yet, but i knew they'd be home soon. i tossed myself onto my bed and huddled up in bed, preparing to spend a looooong night in bed researching and spending my parents' money.

they were stupid enough to trust me with their credit card one day, so i memorized the numbers. my deed would have to be done quick, stealthily and without them noticing for a day or two.

precisely half-past six pm, i found myself downstairs, sneaking my dad's computer from his work desk. my hands shook as i held the railing of the stairs. i figured, what the fuck? why not do something fun for once? besides, after the talk george gave me, i had to go.

however daring i pretended to be, i masked my true fear of being caught with a rapacious grin. a notepad tucked away under my bed had all their information on it, such as their social security number, credit card information and so on. was this creepy and illegal? yes, but technically it's for a good cause.

george harrison told me to do it.

but i didn't buy the tickets at first, but i found one for the low price of five hundred dollars on a website that took me two hours of hard work to find- i even got a few offers from the prince of nigeria who wanted to send me on a cruise to europe. i denied that.

i saved the website at around four am and decided to try and get some actual rest. on the rare occasion i didn't have a dream with george in it, i'd just be in the field without him. honestly, it was peaceful. just sitting there, no words to say.

from day one, i wrote down all of my dreams with george. what i remembered about the house, the rooms, him. his amazing voice. his flowing, luscious long hair that curled up.

i saw photos of him when he looked exactly like that in nineteen-seventy-six, when he was thirty-three. but supposedly when i time-traveled, he'd be younger and have no clue who i am.

i'd have to meet him again and tell him who i was, but not tell him i was from the future. that would just mess everything up. if i succeeded to meet him, win him over (george said i probably would since he fancied girls who looked like me at the time), and somehow manage to slither my way into his life without messing anything up, i'd be able to stay for at least a few months.

dream george would oversee the situation and try to advise me, but he said he couldn't bring himself into my dreams like normal. i'd just have to be on my own. in the sixties. alone.

but george gave me all the information i needed to know, such as where he was staying and their studio's address.
"you think you're ready?" he asked that night.

"no... but i'm not gonna keep that from letting me go," i said.

we were at the infamous hidden table again. george carefully strummed his guitar while his hair blew in the midday wind. "good. i just hope my twenty year old self sees just how great of a girl you are," he took a deep inhale. george told me that when i went back, i wouldn't be able to bring anything except for what i was wearing, so i wore a flowy white floral dress. it was beautiful on me.

i figured my parents would only find out about the tickets if the bank called them, but i assumed they wouldn't since it's totally normal for a middle-aged man to go to london by himself. right?

so with a few clicks, taps and buzzes, the one-way ticket to heathrow airport from michigan was bought for the small price of two-hundred dollars. and i wasn't even caught! it was a digital ticket that was send to my email. all i had to do was take a screenshot of it.

it felt good. being bad for once. i did it.