Four vials are lined up along the windowsill, smoke swirling inside each one like compact genies in their lamps: violet, crimson, teal and gold. They sit on an elaborate brass tray with a little plaque on the front, inscribed with the words “John’s Dreams”.
When John was at his cosmic peak, the days he would spend most of his time dedicated to his practice, meditating for hours on end – he would dream so vividly that he claimed he could smell. These are just four of the scents that visited him as he rested: jelly, oil paint, marijuana and the Queen’s perfume.
Something shiny beneath the tray catches your eye. A thick, black liquid oozes out of a broken vial, obscured by the four standing in front of it. The snake charmer watches as you stretch out your fingers to touch it, shaking his head in warning but not uttering a word. The minute your skin comes in contact with it, you feel an intense cold rush through your fingertips all the way down your spine, and suddenly the entire room goes black.
When your eyes open again, the first thing you notice is that your lungs are burning. In a flurry of bubbles, you flail your arms helplessly as you try to break the surface. Water starts to enter your nose and mouth and your movements are becoming more and more frantic. Panic begins to sink it's jagged nails into the flesh of your throat, and you're just about to give up all hope when suddenly -- the tips of your fingers touch air again. With every last bit of energy, you propel yourself upwards and hoist yourself out of the water.
Your head is sandwiched between the water and the ceiling in the absolute narrowest gap of air you’d need to survive. You shake the water off of your eyelashes and catch your breath. Blink.
It looks like a recording studio, but the entire room is flooded to the brim. The fab four are at their places with their instruments, but all the sounds are garbled by their submerged state. The water is moving, distorting their faces and pulling their bodies apart in all different directions. The tension in the room is mounting, their faces growing larger and larger in the turbid motion of the water, ugly scowls twisting and turning as the volume ascends to a crescendo. Suddenly, the water around you turns scorching, much too hot to bear, burning your skin in its unfriendly embrace. The noises are becoming clearer, and you can hear Paul repeating the same words again and again as John twists away into a fury. The temperature of the water goes on rising as the room begins to spin and distort beyond recognition. You feel your vision beginning to fade from the pain.
With a thump, you’re back in the room with the vials and the charmer.
For a few minutes, he only observes you. Then, “there were as many nightmares as good dreams. As many bad trips as good ones. Perhaps more.”
-
What was it that Paul kept saying?
With a sigh, he looks at the tendrils of ivy snaking their way in through the windowsill.
“John always seemed to me like he was on the run. He was a complicated man, on one hand with this great high opinion of himself, constantly considering himself the creator of the group and superior to the rest of the band. He couldn’t hide from his fear though, no matter the channels he used: meditation, drugs, even giving up his singular identity to become one with Yoko. He really did that, towards the end – he’d bring her in for studio sessions where even Brian Epstein, their manager for the majority of their career, wasn’t allowed to weigh in his opinions. It obviously didn’t go down well with the rest of the band, and that’s why many tended to blame Yoko for the demise of the Beatles. But it wasn’t Yoko – it was John’s anxiety and Paul’s frustration and George’s sense of neglect and Ringo’s feelings of distance. And John, being the man he was, felt most compelled to put his disdain into words. Always wanting the upper hand, he’d privately dropped tall statements about quitting the Beatles. But it came as a surprise to him when Paul made the announcement public -- although I feel on some level, he was always afraid of that happening. That’s what Paul was saying in his dream, that he’s going to be the one to end the Beatles. John felt as though it was his right – he started the band, no one but him was meant to disband it.”
His sea green eyes welled up with sadness. “So many years of such a beautiful friendship, fallen to the wayside. Someone once told me that the Beatles weren’t four people living communally; they were all living one life, together. The wives and girlfriends, they’d say that those four had a bond that surpassed any ties they could ever have with their significant others.”
He lets out a little laugh. “Yoko definitely changed that. But it wasn’t because of her – it was because John changed, in her presence. I remember how Paul once said ‘John’s in love with Yoko. And he’s not in love with the three of us anymore.’ I couldn’t ever comprehend the pain behind that statement.”
