"I wish I could live at the Pad. No cares, no worries. Playing with the guys. It’d be a whole lot better than this stupid semantics class. I mean, it’s interesting but not that interesting," I told my friend Natalie over the phone one afternoon.
"Yeah right. Len -- that’s a TV show! There is no Pad!"
"Yeah, I know. But it would be nice, ya know?"
"I know. Well I’ve got to get to bed. Some people have a midterm tomorrow."
I laughed. "Okay. Point taken. G’nite." I hung up the phone and shut down my computer. I’ll bring Ziggs to school tomorrow and read the rest of that backlog of mail during my break, I decided, and I headed up to bed. With "Frideray" from my "Music in Trust" CD playing, sleep came within minutes.
I awoke suddenly, surprised to find myself standing up . . . and in the middle of the Monkees’ Pad! Grinning, I said softly, "Right in the middle of my own story. My wish hath come true . . . sorta. In dream form." Then I looked around the Pad, thinking what a wonderful dream it was. My eyes then landed on a sleeping form on the couch . . . and I felt my mouth water as I admired the tummy fuzz on Micky’s lean stomach. "Thanks a lot Madame," I grumbled and walked over to the window seat . . . just in time to see a gorgeous sunrise.
"Hey there! Who are you?" The cheerful voice made me jump. I whirled around to see Micky standing there in just his boxers. Great. I’ll have to be really nasty to Mike in "Space Monkee Mafia" to get back at Madame for this dream! No more reading "Swimming Lessons" just before bed.
"Um, hi . . . my name’s Lenora . . . I have no idea how I got here . . . " I said, smiling at him and forcing my eyes from his tummy fuzz to his gorgeous face. To myself, I said, Too bad I have to wake up . . . this is such a great lucid dream.
"Well, hi! I’m Micky. Wanna go for a swim?" he asked, grinning ear to ear. I laughed and this time gave his boxers an obvious glance.
"Those don’t exactly look like swim trunks . . . and I don’t have a swim suit."
"Oh, yeah . . . how about breakfast then? Peter’ll be up soon and he’ll make it."
"That sounds great," I replied. "But aren’t you just a bit wary of inviting a strange woman to breakfast?" I already had an idea of his answer, but I asked anyway.
"Nah. My roommates will be curious 'cause it’s usually Davy that brings girls over but it's not so unusual for us." He led me over tot he table and nearly shoved me into a seat just as Peter padded into the kitchen wearing those oh-so-adorable orange pajamas with the bunny on them.
"Man, Micky, you’re up early. And who might you be?" he asked, spotting me.
I got up and held out my hand, "Hello. I'm Lenora."
Shaking my hand, he replied, "Nice to meet you Lenora. I'm Peter. Did Micky drag you in off the beach or somethin’?" He started to dig around in the fridge while Micky slipped off to get dressed.
"No . . . I’m not exactly sure how I got here. One moment, I was in bed and the next I was here . . . " I trailed off.
"Well, then, after breakfast we’ll dig out a map and figure out how to get you home," a voice drawled above me. I looked up to see Mike on the balcony, looking down.
"Well, hello up there!" I said cheerfully. Once I get an ‘Ello love, I’ll pinch myself to wake up. I don’t wanna but I can’t oversleep! I thought.
"Hullo. I’m Mike, and you are?" he said, ambling down the stairs and walking over to me.
"Lenora."
"Wha’ a lovely name! ‘Ello luv. I don’t believe we’ve met -- I never forget a beautiful face! I’m Davy . . . and I think I love you."
I rolled my eyes as Mike glared at the little man and said to me, "Just ignore him. He loves every woman he meets."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "I know." I got odd stares from all four -- Micky had just slid down the staircase in time to hear me. Dang! I thought, and I pinched myself, not wanting to deal with their curious questions . . . even in a dream.
Nothing happened.
This isn’t a dream!!! my mind shrieked.
"What’s wrong? You just went white as a sheet," Peter said, sitting next to me and taking my hand.
"Uh . . . oh boy . . . " I muttered.
"Where are you from? How’d you get here?" Mike asked.
"Um . . . well, this is hard to explain. I’m from Chicago in 1998 . . . and this," I gestured, indicating the Pad, "only exists in a TV show."
"WHAT?!?!" all four gasped.
"Yeah . . . I thought this was a dream at first . . . " I trailed off, unsure of what to say.
"Until ya pinched yourself and ya didn’t wake up?" Davy finished. I nodded.
"Well, let’s make sure that’s the case," Micky piped up and before I knew it, he was on me, pinching and tickling me like crazy. I quickly retaliated and before long we were in a tangle on the floor, engaged in a tickle war.
Gee . . . life imitating fanfic or fanfic imitating life? Either way, Micky and I in tickle wars always seems to be a universal constant.
"Okay, break it up! I think you’ve made sure that she’s awake, Micky," Mike drawled.
"Aww . . . Mike . . . we were just havin’ fun!" Micky whined as he stood.
"Micky," Mike growled. Micky pouted but helped me up and we both sat down at the table. Peter served everyone breakfast -- blueberry waffles, and we ate in silence for a while.
"Chicago in 1998, huh? Guess you have no place to go now," Mike finally broke the silence.
"Yeah . . . "
"Well, then . . . until you find out how to get back, or find a place of your own, you can stay here."
"Oh, yeah, please stay!!" Micky cried.
"I dunno . . . I don’t want to be a burden to y’all," I said, though inside I was jumping for joy.
"You’re not a burden! An annoyance maybe if you keep hanging out with Micky but no burden!" Davy insisted, getting sharp glares from Mike and Micky.
"Yes, please stay . . . at least for a little while. We’d love to have you," Peter added quietly.
I grinned. "How can I refuse? Just for a little while, though."
"Yay!!" all but Mike cheered.
After breakfast, the four insisted on playing for me. Micky tried to sing "Mary, Mary" with the words changed to "Lenora, Lenora" . . . but it just got him a cold stare from Mike. Davy, likewise, changed Sandra to Lenora when singing "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)" and got a glare. But the highlight was Peter singing "Your Auntie Lenora." At that, Mike merely rolled his eyes.
After the performance, Mike headed to the store for groceries, Davy went to the beach, and I sat down with Micky and Peter for some musical lessons. Micky had promised to teach me the drums and Peter had promised to teach me guitar.
A week later I woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare. I’d dreamt about a student at Northeastern Illinois University who had been trying to pick me up for weeks but I’d kept turning him down. I’d dreamt him standing by a high tech machine . . . laughing . . . saying "If I can’t have you, I’ll send you to another dimension . . . to oblivion!!"
Thinking about the dream, I realized that it could be a clue to how I’d gotten there. That student was extremely bright . . . and I did seem to be in another dimension, just not one of oblivion. Maybe he’d screwed up and sent me to a dimension I really liked instead? I sighed.
"You’re up way too early," Micky groaned. I jumped, having momentarily forgotten the sleeping arrangements. Since Micky and I had hit it off right away, the others insisted I share the upstairs bedroom with him and Mike took the couch.
"Nightmare. I’ll tell you all about it at a normal hour . . . like over lunch. But first I gotta write it down."
"There’s paper in the desk by the front door. Write it down and go back to sleep!!" he moaned and rolled over. I heard his snores start up within seconds. As I tiptoed down the stairs, I chuckled, thinking about various fanfic stories and everyone’s interpretation of why Micky and Mike were in one bedroom and Peter and Davy in the other. I had my own now. Only Mike could put up with that racket!!
I was suddenly assaulted with a wave of homesickness as I thought of my father’s loud snoring. I missed my family and friends . . . but I didn’t want to leave here . . . leave the Pad and the guys. I loved it too much here.
I found pen and paper in the desk like Micky had said, and I took it to the window seat to write in the light of the full moon.
"Whatcha doin up?" a soft voice asked, startling me. I looked up and Mike sat down beside me . . . clad in just his pajama bottoms. My eyes drifted toward the tummy fuzz. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you," he drawled.
"That’s okay. I just thought you were asleep, like everyone else."
"I heard you walking down the stairs. You can’t be quiet on those. Not even tiptoeing helps. And what are you doing up?" He put an arm around my shoulder and I snuggled closer, happy for the warmth. Even though it was the middle of July, the nights were chilly.
"I had a nightmare . . . but one that might have some clues as to how I got here. I wanted to write it down so I came down here for paper and moonlight."
"And a respite from old noisy up there?"
"That too!" I laughed.
"I’m bettin’ you’ll have a hard time gettin back to sleep now," he drawled as I scribbled down the last of the dream.
"Yeah."
"Let me help." He placed the papers in the window seat and led me to the couch. He then grabbed an acoustic guitar from the bandstand and sat down on the couch, pulling me into his lap. He reached around me to hold the guitar, and started to play "Nine Times Blue." I was asleep long before he was done.
The next morning I found myself back in Mike’s bed . . . with a curly headed alarm clock sitting on my stomach.
"Wake up Lenora sleepy head!!!!" he cried at top volume. I smacked him with my pillow and shoved him off me . . . and onto the floor.
"Don’t do that!" I cried.
"I tol’ ‘im not to, but ‘e never listens," Davy said from the doorway. "Here’s some clothes for today." He walked over and handed me a pair of dark gray flared pants and a blue 8-button shirt. I’d been borrowing his clothes since I had arrived with none and as yet didn’t think I’d be staying very long. Little did we know just how long I’d be there.
Last updated 13 OCT 98
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