The Power Of Love- My latest dream

Its a silly thing to be proud of, meeting a celebrity. I mean, throughout my sixteen years of life, I've met my fair share. The odd comedian who isn't funny, a chef that your mum likes or some one-hit-wonder from the 80's who you vaguely remember seeing on "The World's Biggest Flops". But the one I am truly proud of meeting was the one that changed my life.

Many people say, when they meet someone famous, that the celebrity will remember them, should they ever meet again, but we know this is simply hopeful dreaming. But i have a different situation. We shared time together that I, for one, will never forget. He is in a word, beautiful, in so many ways. But how did i meet him? Well... Let me tell you... He came to me in a dream.

I was young; 16 and happy until one particular day when my world seemed to crash down on me. My grandfather passed away, and my mother fell ill. I was heartbroken. I wandered glumly into a nearby coffee shop to feel sorry for myself away from the stress of my remaining family. It was a busy afternoon, there were few chairs left available. I walked passed the happy, chatting families and put my coat down on one of the only remaining seats and went to order.

When i returned, a woman had sat in my seat. "Excuse me." I politely interrupted, "you're in my seat. My coat is there." The woman just looked at me, said nothing, and threw my coat at me. Another thing to add to the list of bad things that had happened that day. I looked around to find another seat and saw a man sat alone at a four-seat table. I wandered over in his direction.

"You can sit here." He said before i could open my mouth.
"Oh thanks, i guess you saw that little conversation i had before then huh?" I replied, looking curiously at him. He sat with his eyes closed, head leaned back on the chair. He must have been Italian, or possibly Spanish, his thick accent was wonderful to listen to.
"No. I didn't see it." He said in an amused way. "But i heard it, and you seemed upset. Like you need a friendly face. I thought i would offer myself for that role. After all, i hate to eat alone." He smiled. I studied his kind-looking face. He opened his eyes slightly and i soon realised that he was blind.

"Well thanks, but I'm sure you don't want to know." A sudden rush of recollection hit me. "Wait a second," I smiled at him, "do i know you from somewhere?" The corner of his mouth lifted in a dazzling smile.
"I think so." He simply answered.
"You are aren't you? You're... Uh... the opera singer... right?"
"Yes, i'm surprised you know that."
"Oh. I saw you on TV once i think. " I asked him. He smiled and nodded his head. Then he turned his head and seemed to be staring right at me, but i wasn't afraid. He looked at me like he was confused by me, like he was trying desperately to figure me out. Then he sighed and said,
"It's no use. I can't see you. I don't know what you look like. Your voice can only tell me so much." He seemed sad. "I want to see you." He finished. He raised his hands and put one on either side of my face. "Do you mind?" He asked me. And i didn't. He was so interesting. I didn't care that people were looking at us like we were crazy. He moved his hands around my face gently, as if figuring out where everything was. After a minute or so, he dropped his hands.
"There," he smiled. "I can see you now."

We sat in silence for a minute. I had a lot to take in. This handsome stranger was compelling, interesting and quite captivating yet i was so confused by him. After a while, he asked me why i was sad. I looked at his genuinely curious face and told him everything; i never do that. When i had finished he lifted his hand and wiped away the tears i didn't even know were there.
"When i lost my sight. I was so angry at God. I hated him. Then i discovered my voice. I realised that God had given me an amazing gift. Sometimes you have to look at things from a different perspective." His words meant little to me at that point. It was all that i had heard before. "You don't believe me. That's ok. I don't think i would if i were you. But i want to prove it to you."

"There is a reason i am here, i am singing tonight. At the Royal Albert Hall. I want you to come. Don't worry about a ticket. I want you to listen to me sing. Will you do that? For me?" I looked at his pleading face and could hardly deny him.
"Okay. I'll try." But he still wasn't happy.
"Okay. I'll send you a car. And then after the show, i want you to come backstage so that i can see your reaction." I laughed slightly at this, it all seemed so weird and out-of-the-blue. Why would a famous person, who i don't know, talk to me for hours and invite me to his show free of charge?
"Ok. I'll come." I answered, not really believing that the car would actually be there that night. "But why does it matter to you?" I asked confused, not meaning to be rude, "Why do you care about me?"
"Well." he said simply, "I am very good at judging people. I have to be. I have listened to you for the last hour or so and i know you probably better than many people do. I want you to realise how lucky you are. I want you to listen to the words in my songs and maybe, just maybe, it will all hit you. If not, then at least you have made a new friend." His explination suited me fine.

We spoke for at least another 30 minutes before we decided to part. It was a weird goodbye. I looked at him, put my hand to his cheek and said, "I'll see you tonight." It's a strange relationship that we share. He seems like a member of family to me, but more of a friend, a friend i find beautiful. I felt sad when i left. Like it hadn't really happened. But a faint kind of hope lingered that i would see him again soon. I felt uplifted already.

Later that day i spent the best part of the early evening looking out of the window for a car. My mother told me i was crazy, that this man wasn't going to turn up. But i knew the car would come. I knew i would get there. I trusted him.

At around 6pm a sleek black car pulled into the drive and out stepped my friend from that morning. He was dressed differently. Another man had his arm, leading him to the front door. I all but ran to the door to open it. As soon as i had, i threw my arms around him. I still don't know why. I felt like he was going to go away. Like he was just my imagination. He patted my head. We drove together to the show. I was given a seat at the front and felt nervous.

When he came out, he began his first song, "The Power Of Love". After the first chorus my eyes were welling up. There was something about his voice that made the line, "Because you're my lady, and i'm your man" so much more beautiful. I listened to his whole show, hearing the wonder of his Italian songs, "Somos Novios," "Ave Maria" and many more. I felt enthralled by his voice. Like he was singing only to me.

After the show I ran back stage to talk to him. He was waiting for me. Before i had even spoken, he said, "So?" I tried to answer. I tried and tried to come up with a suitable answer. But nothing would work. I simply sobbed quietly. I hugged him, showing the love a young girl has for her father, or perhaps a favourite uncle.

He nodded, saying nothing. Then, when i had calmed myself, he quietly said, "It's time." I looked at him, confused. "It's time mio caro. Time to wake up. You have heard what you need to hear. You know what you need to know. Wake up now." He smiled at me. For a moment i sat mortified at the thought. I held on tightly, not wanting to let go of the man who had inspired me. But he stroked my hair and spoke very quietly. "I would like to see you one last time before you go. If you don't mind." I lifted his hands to my face. And while he traced the outline of my face with his hands, i slowly slipped back into consciousness, waking to find myself in my room.

And that was that. The next day, i told my mother about this dream and she told me who i had dreamt about; the blind italian tenor was Andrea Bocelli. I had listened to him as a child, my mother was a fan, but never really knew him or his work. Until now anyway.



(Andrea Bocelli singing live)