I know, I know your last tour was difficult. I know you want to go into the studio and get “experimental” now. I know all that. But please hear me out and let me convince you this is a very bad idea.
I suppose I have to admit my first reasons are more selfish. If you stop touring, you will never again come to all the cities where your millions of adoring Fans await. We will never get to experience being in the same room as you. There will be no hope for us to meet you, or at least get close to you and maybe even touch you, someday. If you lived in the 21st century, with live...
Today was the big day. The day John, George, and Ringo were flying to London to find the portal. Actually it opened tomorrow, but they had made sure to time things so that they would already be there when that happened. They were taking no chances on missing it. That was unthinkable.
The three friends had packed their things, John had kissed his wife and son good-bye, and then it was off to the airport. The three friends felt a mixture of excited and nervous. Excited, because they would soon have Paul back, and all four Beatles would be together again. None of them considered...
George and Ringo moved into John's apartment after the funeral. It was a little crowded in there with the three Beatles, Yoko, John's five-year-old son Sean, and an assortment of pet cats all sharing the same living space, but apart from wanting to stick together as much as they could now, John, George, and Ringo had planning to do. They couldn't afford to jump into this without thinking like Paul probably had. They had exactly three months and ten days to work out what they were going to do, and insure that when they changed history this time, every Beatle was going to survive.
It was all his fault. All his fault. At least, that was what John kept telling himself.
No one else seemed to blame him. Linda, though she had been very tearful when she was called in to New York with the news that her husband had died, had been perfectly friendly to John. George and Ringo, who were standing next to John, the three of them gripping hands as though trying to fuse together the remaining pieces of the Beatles, didn't act at all like they blamed him. The many Beatles fans who had shown up for Paul's funeral, so many of whom used to harbour dreams that he would someday...
Paul blinked as the last of the mist disappeared, wondering if he was seeing his surroundings wrong. What was he doing in his own kitchen in Scotland when he was supposed to be in New York saving John? Had the time travel even worked? For one brief, heart-stopping moment, Paul thought it hadn't and that all his excitement over the past few days had been for nothing, but then he realized the kitchen looked a little different. The furniture wasn't positioned exactly the same as it had been and the towels hanging up weren't the same ones he'd left that morning. Even the clothes Paul was...
"Of course we can get messages from the spiritual world," said George. "Most of us just don't know we can yet, is all."
Paul had decided to ask George his opinion on the matter of spiritual dream messages, toying with the idea of letting him know what John had told him. George was very into all things spiritual and might know something about dream messages that Paul didn't.
"You don't think, though," Paul checked, "that we could get a message from a dream telling us to do something if we weren't supposed to do it?" Actually, Paul was already sure of this, but it didn't hurt to...
Paul dreamed about John that night.
It wasn't a typical dream where something was going on and John just happened to show up in it. There wasn't much background in the dream at all, just a lot of misty white, and John was there, smiling like he always had back when they had been best friends and seen each other every day. The first thing Paul did when he saw him was to throw his arms around his friend and start crying.
"Shh," John soothed, though accepting Paul's hug with surprisingly good grace. "You don't want to look soft. Stiff upper lip and all that."