Lenora's Fiction Archive

The Dream part 5

Geez, how late in the timeline AM I? I asked myself. In my own dimension, "Long Title" had been recorded in 1968 for Head. Could I be in 1968 already? Not likely, I said, sneaking a peek at Micky. Judging by his hair, it was early 1967. Unless Peter wrote this song long before it was recorded . . .

I stopped myself from speculating and read the lyrics over again, cementing them firmly in my mind. As I pulled out the first sheet of bass notation and started to figure out the fingering, the door opened . . . and in stepped Isabel.

"I’m home!" she cried. "Where’s Mike?"

"On the beach. But first, Izzy, we’d like you to meet our newest band member. Lenora Dolenz, meet Isabel Evans," Micky piped up from behind his drums.

"Dolenz? You two related?" she asked, shaking my hand.

"We’re still tryin’ to figure that out," Mike spoke up from the doorway. "Len can explain the whole thing to you . . . later. For now, let’s go have a welcoming home celebration over at your place."

Isabel fixed Mike with a curious glare. "Oh? I didn’t know a writing conference earned me a welcoming home party."

Mike didn’t answer, just dragged her next door to her house. They didn’t return until it was time for rehearsal.

As Mike slung on his 12-string, he scanned the set list we’d drawn up and then grabbed a pen and added one more song. "Never Tell A Woman Yes." He winked at me, saying, "Just like I was discussin’ with ya. Number three on the set list."

I nodded and pulled out my sheet with the music and lyrics for that song and slid it into the pile with all the other sheets of notation on my music stand. We’d discussed a slightly different vocal arrangement than the recording of the song that I was familiar with.

We started off with "Last Train to Clarksville." Micky and I harmonized on the lead vocals. Next, we switched around on instruments for "Pleasant Valley Sunday." I handed the bass to Davy while Peter moved over to the piano. Mike swapped his 12-string for an acoustic while I nabbed the electric 6-string. On this song, I only sang harmony on the chorus, since I had so much more to do playing lead guitar instead of bass.

Then we did "Never Tell A Woman Yes." I took over piano, while Peter grabbed his banjo, sliding on his finger picks, and Mike took back his beloved 12-string.

"In a dusty caravan was a girl of a golden tan, and she asked me if I was headed to the east. I politely stepped aside and said I did not need a ride, that I’d rather take my chances with the heat. Well, when she turned and walked away, I saw my big mistake. There were jewels on her body, oh so rare. Had it been another day I just might have rode away with that woman ridin’ off to God knows where.

"So, the years, they came and went, and found me livin’ in a tent far above a little marble stream. And it may have been the light that shone out through the night that attracted the hand scratchin’ on my screen.

"When I cautiously looked out through the night, there was no doubt that the owner of the hand was that girl. So I bid her, ‘Do come in, and I’ll open up a tin if you’ll tell me about your trip around the world.’ Well, she said," Mike sang.

"If you’ll think back to the first time that we passed, I’m sure you’ll picture me in all my jewels. And it was shortly after then that I ran into another man and I asked him the same question that I asked you.

"But now he, he didn’t refuse, and he took off both of his shoes and climbed aboard my east-bound caravan. And in the twinkling of an eye, he had knocked me off the side and left me there for dead upon the sand.

"And I thought that I was done, lyin’ naked in the sun, when much to my surprise, who should pass but this old friend of yours. He said he knew you from the wars, and I told him that I thought you’d headed west.

"Well, he said he should have known, ‘cause you like to be alone. And that’s the time I knew you were my one. So I asked him for a ride just to get here by your side, and stay here above this stream out of the sun," I belted out.

"Well, we sat quiet for a while, then I began to smile, and I said, ‘Well, it’s strange, but I don’t care.’ And some nights when I’m at rest, I wonder if I had said yes, if she’d have come to me from God knows where?

"Or, would I have been the one to leave her lyin’ in the sun, and then ended up with only precious stones? Would the woman in my arms be givin’ me her charms if the answer that I gave her wasn’t no?" Mike finished.

As the last notes faded away we looked over at Isabel, who was staring at us in disbelief. "You . . . you . . . you got the sound you wanted!" she breathed.

"Yep. Sure did. Good job, Len. I knew you could do it -- and that you didn’t need to practice for it," Mike drawled. I grinned at him and took the bass from Davy for the next song, "You Tell Me." We also did "No Time" and "Words."

Then I took a seat on the black leather chaise, curling up into a ball and rolling up in a blanket, while the guys ran through "Cuddly Toy," "You May Just Be The One," "While I Cry," and then I rejoined them to perform the harmony vocals on "All the Kings Horses" and "Teardrop City." At the end, Isabel stood up, clapping.

"That was your best rehearsal yet! You’re gonna do great at the Club Cassandra tomorrow night!"

Tomorrow Night? Oooooh boooooy, I silently groaned.

Isabel then came up to me. "The guys made a good choice adding you to the group. Now why don’t we go for a walk on the beach and you can tell me all about what I missed here while I was gone."

"Okie dokie." I snagged a jacket of Davy’s from the closet while Isa borrowed one of Mike’s button-down shirts and we walked out onto the cooling sands.

"So, how long were you gone? I mean, Mike just suddenly lit up when you walked in earlier, like he’d been really missin’ you," I asked.

"Two weeks. How long ago did you get here?"

"Hmm, that’d do it. I got here a week and two days ago." I leaned down to pick up a tiny pink shell. I’d been gathering shells every time I was on the beach with the intention of making myself some earrings. I hadn’t been wearing any when I arrived, since I was taken straight from bed, but now I was starting to go stir crazy. I liked wearing my own handmade dangly earrings, ones made of beads and other baubles. I loved the way they bounced around when I grooved to music, and not having earrings flying around while I performed with the guys was starting to get on my nerves. I slid the shell into a jacket pocket.

"Gee, they didn’t spend much time replacing me," Isabel teased. Her dry teasing tone, so much like Mike’s, utterly escaped me.

"They didn’t find me. I sorta found them. I . . . well, I came from another dimension. I don’t know how I got here, although I have a few ideas, but I just landed here. The guys have been very generous in letting me stay, teaching me their songs -- I’d never played bass or guitar before I came here, and Mike has been teaching me to drive the Monkeemobile. I’m going to get my driver’s license and get a job as soon as possible so I can help with the rent. Besides, Mike’s still all yours. I like Micky more."

"Funny, I thought you liked Peter more," she said dryly.

"Why do you say that?" I asked as I grabbed another shell.

"You dance around on the bandstand like him. Except . . . I see you bobbing your head a lot more." She gave me a confused look.

"Oh, that’s because I’m used to my earrings flying around when I dance to music. But when I came here . . . I was pulled right from my bed and I have yet to get supplies together to make a pair or two of earrings."

"You make your own earrings?" she gasped.

"Yup. At home I have two huge buckets of beads of all sizes. I make all kinds of earrings but usually I make French wire ones that dangle and are free to wiggle around. One of my favourite designs is a large bead or other object at the bottom of a nice sturdy twisted wire or a headpin with smaller plastic or seed beads in between it and the hook . . . " I trailed off, just now realizing I was rambling.

"Do you think you could make some fancy earrings for me? For a date with Mike?"

"If I had the supplies, yes. In fact . . . I know just the style to make for you." I combed her long black hair behind her ears and sized her up. "Yes, I know just the one to make."

"Really? Well, how about we go to the store tomorrow? Oh, no, wait -- that’s not enough time for you. My date is tomorrow night."

"Nonsense. The style I have in mind doesn’t take much time to make. The most time-consuming part is stringing the beads and that doesn’t even take much time since I can string pretty fast. Just show me the dress you’re planning to wear and I’ll find the right colours to go with it."

"Really? Oh, that would be wonderful Lenora! I’ll pay for all the supplies."

I laughed. "It’s a deal. What time tomorrow?"

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Last updated 13 OCT 98

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