My comment has absolutely nothing to do with the meaning of this song, but rather its use in my oldest and most cherished dream. It was the dream that made me realise that I was falling in love with her, my "la douleur exquise," my unattainable perfection. As far as I can remember, this is my only good recurring dream; the rest are all horrible... but this one is different. I'll try to describe the dream as best I can so you can visualise it, but I'm not the world's greatest storyteller by any means. Oh well. Let's give it a go.
At this point, Fly Boy Blue begins playing
I was cruising through a rainy London in a pitch black 1954 Jaguar XK140, a wool cap on my head and a smile on my face. The streets were completely devoid of people; no London cabs ferrying their drunken passengers from bar to bar, no double-decker buses, no cyclists to slow me down. I pushed that old cat as hard as I could, my foot to the floor on the straights, and my hands gripping the wheel tightly in the curves. It responded well for such an old car; everything was in such good working order that it was like time had passed this brilliant machine by. The lights of Shaftesbury Avenue shone on the glistening road as the straight six thundered along, its roar reverberating off the walls and echoing through the city. I turned onto Piccadilly, and found that familiar place, where I knew the food was good, and the people were even better. I spied my mates outside the pub, and found a decent parking spot. I carefully parked the Jag, and got out to greet the night.
As I locked the car, I met with my friends outside. We had a quick chat; we caught up with each other's lives, and walked through the front door. At dinner, we laughed, joked, and did the things that all friends do. But then they had to leave. It was bittersweet, but it was all well and good in the end. After all, I was waiting for someone.
Fly Boy Blue ends; Lunette begins
After they left, I remained, chatting with the barman, and watching the regular crowd stream in. I saw the one face in the crowd that I had been looking for; the one that I saw in my dreams, and the one I had been longing to see. She smiled when she saw me, for she knew that she was the reason why I stayed behind. She sat down next to me, and after she greeted the barman, turned towards me. Her striking eyes met mine, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Haven't seen you in a while," she told me, as she let her curly hair tumble down to her shoulders. "It's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you too," I reply. "It's been far too long."
I turned to the barman. Without a word he smiled and nodded while he poured a pint of Guinness Stout. Perfect, as always. I turned back towards the woman beside me, and we began to talk, just like we always did. As we discussed everything from the weather to politics, the crowd in the pub slowly began to stream out. Soon, it was just the barman, myself, and her.
"How long have we been here?" she asked. "Seems like we do this every time. It's like time has stood still. "
"Maybe it has," I answered her. "Maybe it still is doing. Maybe just for us, time stands still."
In that instant, I thought of the car. We were like that old Jaguar parked out on the street. For seven decades, time had passed that car by. Throughout its life, that car had seen many things; millions of people come and go, wars won, wars lost, peacetime, and times of anarchy. But that faithful old six cylinder engine still ran the same as when it rolled off the line, just because it had loving owners that took good care of it. It was then that we realised that we could stop time forever, right then and there.
And so we did.
As the last call bell sounded, we rose together. I bid the barman goodbye, and he smiled and raised his hand in a salute. The cold, damp air outside clawed at our skin, and we held each other close as we walked to the car. We closed the doors to our little sanctuary, slightly warmer, but still cold enough to see the mist of our breath on the air. I turned the key, and the old Jag roared to life, its headlights illuminating columns of fire on the asphalt. I put the antique car into gear, and began to drive back to the flat. She rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
And in that moment, time stood still.
I know you're out there in the night. Will you ever read this? Doubt it. But one thing I know for sure is, that you will always be my biggest "what if." You will always be that girl, the one that stood with me in the rain on that cool London night. But I'll have to keep this to myself, because you never saw me the way I saw you; I was "stubborn, selfish, and too old." Oh well, that doesn't matter anyway. You will always be the one. You still make time stand still whenever you're near... I just wish it would be for longer. I will never forget you.
My comment has absolutely nothing to do with the meaning of this song, but rather its use in my oldest and most cherished dream. It was the dream that made me realise that I was falling in love with her, my "la douleur exquise," my unattainable perfection. As far as I can remember, this is my only good recurring dream; the rest are all horrible... but this one is different. I'll try to describe the dream as best I can so you can visualise it, but I'm not the world's greatest storyteller by any means. Oh well. Let's give it a go.
At this point, Fly Boy Blue begins playing
I was cruising through a rainy London in a pitch black 1954 Jaguar XK140, a wool cap on my head and a smile on my face. The streets were completely devoid of people; no London cabs ferrying their drunken passengers from bar to bar, no double-decker buses, no cyclists to slow me down. I pushed that old cat as hard as I could, my foot to the floor on the straights, and my hands gripping the wheel tightly in the curves. It responded well for such an old car; everything was in such good working order that it was like time had passed this brilliant machine by. The lights of Shaftesbury Avenue shone on the glistening road as the straight six thundered along, its roar reverberating off the walls and echoing through the city. I turned onto Piccadilly, and found that familiar place, where I knew the food was good, and the people were even better. I spied my mates outside the pub, and found a decent parking spot. I carefully parked the Jag, and got out to greet the night.
As I locked the car, I met with my friends outside. We had a quick chat; we caught up with each other's lives, and walked through the front door. At dinner, we laughed, joked, and did the things that all friends do. But then they had to leave. It was bittersweet, but it was all well and good in the end. After all, I was waiting for someone.
Fly Boy Blue ends; Lunette begins
After they left, I remained, chatting with the barman, and watching the regular crowd stream in. I saw the one face in the crowd that I had been looking for; the one that I saw in my dreams, and the one I had been longing to see. She smiled when she saw me, for she knew that she was the reason why I stayed behind. She sat down next to me, and after she greeted the barman, turned towards me. Her striking eyes met mine, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Haven't seen you in a while," she told me, as she let her curly hair tumble down to her shoulders. "It's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you too," I reply. "It's been far too long."
I turned to the barman. Without a word he smiled and nodded while he poured a pint of Guinness Stout. Perfect, as always. I turned back towards the woman beside me, and we began to talk, just like we always did. As we discussed everything from the weather to politics, the crowd in the pub slowly began to stream out. Soon, it was just the barman, myself, and her.
"How long have we been here?" she asked. "Seems like we do this every time. It's like time has stood still. "
"Maybe it has," I answered her. "Maybe it still is doing. Maybe just for us, time stands still."
In that instant, I thought of the car. We were like that old Jaguar parked out on the street. For seven decades, time had passed that car by. Throughout its life, that car had seen many things; millions of people come and go, wars won, wars lost, peacetime, and times of anarchy. But that faithful old six cylinder engine still ran the same as when it rolled off the line, just because it had loving owners that took good care of it. It was then that we realised that we could stop time forever, right then and there.
And so we did.
As the last call bell sounded, we rose together. I bid the barman goodbye, and he smiled and raised his hand in a salute. The cold, damp air outside clawed at our skin, and we held each other close as we walked to the car. We closed the doors to our little sanctuary, slightly warmer, but still cold enough to see the mist of our breath on the air. I turned the key, and the old Jag roared to life, its headlights illuminating columns of fire on the asphalt. I put the antique car into gear, and began to drive back to the flat. She rested her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.
And in that moment, time stood still.
I know you're out there in the night. Will you ever read this? Doubt it. But one thing I know for sure is, that you will always be my biggest "what if." You will always be that girl, the one that stood with me in the rain on that cool London night. But I'll have to keep this to myself, because you never saw me the way I saw you; I was "stubborn, selfish, and too old." Oh well, that doesn't matter anyway. You will always be the one. You still make time stand still whenever you're near... I just wish it would be for longer. I will never forget you.