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Dreaming Of You // If I'm Still Dreaming

'You know I’m from the shire'

An atheist. I should have imagined that. My mum would surely love it. But I had to admit that after the first shock I didn’t care about it at all. It shouldn’t be an issue, although she was so different to me in every aspect. She came from that artistic family with a liberal approach on everything while I come from a working class, divorced parents’ family. And our lives were so different… My life was surreal compared to Jeanne’s. My life wasn’t a normal life. That first day at her countryside house was when I started to wonder on what I had to offer her in terms of relationships, in the event that she would want one with me, and the answers came out all wrong. My tour wasn’t even near to be over and then we got the OTRA tour next year. We didn’t even live in the same continent. Could a flat in Paris really make the difference?

I felt my iPhone vibrating over a table. I glanced at Jeanne, sleeping so naked beside me. Night had fallen and the light setting of the garden was on. It positively looked as a funfair. I got up from bed and glanced at the screen of my mobile. It was Louis. I needed to answer that one so I grabbed my boxers and a shirt and went outside.

“Hey, mate, how are you?” I asked him in a caring tone. We hadn’t spoken since our goodbye in Portugal.

“Well, mate, I’m not jumping up and down in joy but I’ll live,” he ironised. Yeah, that was his way to cope.

“I’m sorry, Lou. I haven’t called you…”

“It’s OK, mate. I wasn’t expecting your call–––he cut me off. How are you? How is Jeanne?”

“I’m fine; she’s fine. She’s sleeping…” The words slipped out of my mouth unthinkingly.

“Right, I get it–––Louis claimed. So you were shagging all afternoon. That’s why you didn’t answer my previous calls,” he chuckled. I looked at the screen again and saw the alerts. I couldn’t help but chuckle too. It had been a steamy afternoon.

“Well, what can I say?–––I cheekily asked. I was missing her…”

“Well, yeah. I know–––he replied lightly. We all know that… So, how’s the place?”

“God, Louis, you should see it–––I said glancing around, still amazed. I’ve never been in a house like this… In a forest like this. You know I’m from the shire but this is just another category–––I carried on enthusiastically. We are going to the town market tomorrow morning.” He chuckled. I glimpsed inside. Jeanne hadn’t even moved in bed. “I can speak now so tell me what you were so eager to say to me.”

“My mum just insisted for you to bring Jeanne to the wedding–––he explained. I already told her you got everything set to come on your own but she wants me to reiterate the invitation. So, we’ll be honoured if you brought her. Have you asked her?”

“No, I haven’t,” I mumbled.

“But she knows you are coming…”

“Yes, she does–––I claimed, a bit annoyed. We’ll be dinning in with her father’s friend and Pat and then in the dawn we’ll get a taxi to Orly airport. It’s not that far.”

“Are you going to ask her?” Why was he so interested? Of course, he was dying to meet her.

“What for?–––I snapped. I told you the first time that she’ll say no. I know she’s not ready…–––I muttered. I don’t even know what she wants…”

“You haven’t discussed feelings yet,” Louis asserted.

“No.”

“I don’t get you, Harry,” he offhandedly complained and I shook my head, frustrated. “You have been wanting something like this for so long, and Jeanne in particular for quite a while. I thought you would have already proposed to her by now…” He joked, giggling.

“Yeah, well, no–––I said in irony. I don’t want to rush things up too much…”

“You don’t have much time, Harry.” Patronising Louis wasn’t my all time favourite. For sure I didn’t need Jiminy Cricket worrying me pointlessly.

“What did you want to tell me?” I cut him short, far more annoyed than before.

“OK, calm down–––he huffed. Well, you won’t believe this…”

“What?” I groaned. My head spun around in a second facing so many possibilities.

“The guy, Neuer… German goalkeeper. He replied to Jeanne’s tweet…”

“What? When?” I blurted out.

“Sooner this afternoon–––Louis explained. Do you remember her post on Twitter? We translated it and what she effectively said was: ‘Congratulations, @Manuel_Neuer, on your Golden Glove award.’ And he replied: ‘Thank you, J, but it’s the Cup what matters to me the most.’” At his words my mind went sort of blank.

“Did he answer her tweet?–––I reacted when the idea took form. And just two days after winning the World Cup? J?” I said, confused.

“J is for Jeanne. He knows her. We checked it and he follows her–––he murmured reluctantly. I don’t know if I should be telling you this. There’s nothing wrong with those messages…” I guessed no, but…

“Who the hell is this guy? Is he that good anyway?”

“Best goalkeeper of the moment, although Real Madrid scored him four goals in the last Champions League…” Louis scoffed. We both chuckled. “Don’t worry; we saw him snogging with a girl that night, remember?” No, I didn’t see that. “El told me it was his girlfriend. Don’t get obsessed. It’s really nothing.”

“I’m not obsessing…” I whinged. Well, I was trying not to.

“She surely is a Bayern Munich fan,” he observed casually.

“That’s not a good thing either…”

“Harry, I didn’t want for it to catch you off guard. Just forget it…” As if it was easy to do so.

–.–.–

“Tell me about your parents.” Jeanne frowned. We were having cold cuts as supper in the kitchen island, and a glass of wine. It was a bit late when she woke up. “They maybe aren’t here but I’m at their home so you should tell me about them. It’s the proper thing…”

“What do you want to know?” Jeanne snickered.

“I told you before… Everything.”

“As I told you my father was a painter and a photographer–––she scoffed. You can see it for yourself now…” We grinned. I was truly delighted to be there. “He wasn’t Parisian but from a small city in Southern France, Cordes-sur-Ciel.”

“Cordes-sur-Ciel–––I repeated. Sounds mesmerising.”

“Well, yes, it sort of means ‘the hill rising above the clouds.’” Why everything around Jeanne had to be so magic? “He was born in a good family so they sent him to Paris to study Architecture. But he was a bit of a rebel and after some time he switched to Fine Arts, his true passion. It took almost ten years for my grand-parents to forgive him.” We giggled.

“What was his name?” I asked in curiosity.

“Didier–––she stated. Well, at the Academy, where we went to my art lesson, he met a girl…” I was absolutely hooked by her story. Everything seemed to connect so perfectly.

“Is your mother an artist too?”

“No, she went there to meet guys–––Jeanne laughed. She had a thing for artists…”

“Oh, I see a family trend…” I joked and she cackled, throwing her head back, her glass between both hands.

“My mother studied modern languages and became a translator, but when my grand-daddy died she basically took care of his business, an art gallery.” They definitely had very much in common.

“Did you have any siblings?” I asked, trying to clear my doubts on the subject.

“No–––she scrunched her face to me. I told you I’m an only child.”

“Oh,” I pouted. She frowned again. “Well, carry on.”

“My father became quite successful very soon. He was a magnificent artist–––she said proudly. Here you have a bit of his latest work, but he did figurative painting too. When he died my mother decided to transfer the business to my aunt, and moved to Otranto, in Southern Italy. She has a ‘masseria' that produces olive oil, but she still travels a lot because of her work.” She seemed to be an amazing person, although I found it a bit strange that she let her daughter alone in such critical time. Jeanne wasn’t a damsel in distress but she surely was devastated at the moment. Anyway, I was trying not to judge. She must have her reasons.

“They sound like the perfect couple,” I finally muttered.

“Well, I guess they were at their own particular way–––she mused. He was openly unfaithful to Anne.”

“My mother is called Anne too!” I snapped, bewildered.

“Tell me something I don’t know…” Jeanne chuckled, shrugging.

“My art consultant is called Anne…”

“Do you have an art consultant?” She asked in curiosity.

“I have.”

“Do you buy art as an asset?” Her question made me stop dead. It could be a casual enquiry or not…

“Well, no–––I mumbled, suddenly stiffening. I buy art because I like it. I’m maybe from Cheshire but it’s not that I don’t have a taste in art.” Jeanne raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t need to go on the defensive–––she said quietly, her expression turning serious. I’m just asking you… People judge you too much, isn’t it?” That second question caught me off guard and I just glimpsed down.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“And you had to keep it together for four years but you are tired because you were so young when it all started.” I tilted my head when I got her point. “You are still so young.” I hated when she underlined that.

“Do you pity me?” I spat out.

“No–––Jeanne stated, holding my gaze. You make a radical choice at a young age and you managed to carry on with it earnestly, making the most of it.” Her words sort of surprised me. “But you don’t need me to tell you who you are,” she said drastically changing her tone to a more blithely one, and propped her chin on her fist. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I like to listen when you speak about me–––I said. You make fame sound as something far more deep.”

“Do you need depth?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“I need meanings…” I mumbled.

“To make it worthy?” I nodded. “You have meanings–––Jeanne asserted. There are twenty million girls out there that trust you. And even if there were three… It’s a gift to be able to touch lives like this.” I slightly frowned. “Do you feel guilty because you think it’s too demanding?” There she was again, analysing me, and I didn’t know what to say.

“I guess so…”

“You are amazing, do you know that?–––she said from behind her glass, bending her back. You were puzzled because I don’t care to pose nude, but you expose yourself way more than you probably even realise, and to everyone… It has to be exhausting–––she observed sympathetically. I could never do that, to tell the world about a dream.”

“What dream?” I squinted at her.

“In that interview to the BBC… You randomly talked about a dream you had.” Oh, yes, the one of the secret. I giggled.

“I thought you hadn’t seen that,” I mused, pleased. She actually watched my interviews.

“I hadn’t, but the girls kept talking about your dream, so I got curious,” she explained casually but she didn’t fool me. I looked her deep in the eyes. “You, leaving on a train?” I shuddered, distressed.

“Just a dream,” I flicked my hand at her, but a strange sensation had overtaken me instantly.

“There is no such thing as ‘just a dream’…–––Jeanne pointed out slowly. The girls are mostly teenagers and may not have the tools to get the ulterior meaning. But there is a deeper meaning and that’s the reason you are squirming in your seat–––she spoke as if she was hypnotising me. You are making conscious what was unconscious and it bothers you because it was the statement of a desire, the desire to quit, to leave this life. And you told them unknowingly, and you realise just now.” As she finished to talk I was dazed. She had spoken some unpronounced voice inside of me and I was feeling completely disarmed. I understood what she said about being naked.

“How do you do that?” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around me.

“I just connect the dots…” She was as an enchantress. “But you aren’t sad–––Jeanne said, smiling, and reached my cheek with her palm. There is a lot of life in that image.” I was frozen in my stool, but her touch warmed up my heart.

“Do you think I’m a fool because I spent all my youth dreaming to have what I have now and now that I have it I dream of something else?”

“Not at all–––she whispered shaking her head ‘no.’ There’s nothing more human than that… We need to keep going all the time; otherwise something dies inside us. You are blessed because you knew your dream. Most people don’t. And then you had the chance to follow that dream–––she explained. And you did. You need to figure out what your new dream is and then you’ll probably get rid of that limbo sensation you are caught in.”

The topic disappeared just as spontaneously as it appeared, with my gaze in my glass. Once we finished supper we got ready to bed and it tranquillised me to know my uneasiness would go away the moment I held Jeanne between my arms to the tinkling sound of the chimes and the leaves.

–.–.–

Notes

So much in this chapter... All-this-psychotherapy-thing-is-new-to-me Harry xD This story needed something like that... The dream existed. Actually I asked two therapists about that dream and they told me the same. Of course it doesn't mean anything as long as he's the one telling it because is the reaction that holds the meaning, not the dream itself. That's how therapy works. The therapist just suggests things, pushes you to the limit, but the meaning always comes from within. So, is this finally drama creeping up the story?

This is intensity rising. Next chapter... What can I say about next chapter? I don't even know if I'm ready to put it out there. It took me four days to write it and it was so emotionally exhausting I cried over it. You haven't read next chapter in any other story you have read...

I fell in love with a new story! It doesn't happen a lot lately but I'm glad I found this one because it's a meaningful, endearing story everybody should be reading and loving. So, come on, take a good look at it and let it get to your heart:

I'm Still The Harry You Knew. Don't miss it!

Thank you to all my lovely friends for sharing their time with me and this story. I'm always happy to find new friends, so if you hadn't, leave a comment below for me to know you––I really love this part, click the tenth star and hit subscribe. You know feedback helps me to keep going. I write faster when I'm happy and update more often ;) In exchange I promise you long-lasting feels...

Love you all.

Any story deserves hate

Comments

miss you a lot friend,
message me sometime if you have the chance ❤️

You promised you would never make us wait for an update that long again... *cries*

Hello,

I hope your life is everything that you want it to be. It seems like the past couple of months have really changed my perspective of the world, and how much you need to appreciate the little things in life. You never know when life will snatch them away from you.

I have really appreciated all that you have done for me. I miss your constantly developing plot, and your infinitesimal points of detail. In other words, I miss this story so much.

I feel like so much has happened since the last time you updated. I hope you know that I am always eagerly awaiting your next chapter. Even if it's 5 years from now, and I am a fully licensed Speech Language Pathologist, I will try my best to keep up my support. Maybe next year while I am studying abroad in Italy you will find the motivation to continue. Who knows what's going to happen. Maybe I should take the quote from the t-shirt I am currently wearing. "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know you're gonna get."

Thanks,
Morgan

Morgan__Who Morgan__Who
2/13/18

Oh no, and then the moment came there's no next chapter anymore! What do I have to do with my spare time now?!
On a serious note: I loved loved looooooved your story so far. I loved the way the sequel wasn't the same as 'Dreaming of you'. Another timeset, other places, other people getting involved, and the tension being build up from the beginning till now. Their 'relationship' didn't went back to the way things were in France 4 years ago, it needed time to get together again and in a different way (happy about their love right now, but after 111 chapters I know things can change...). I really loved the way you wrote about Mark Owen as being Jeanne's 'Boyband crush'. I've been such a big fan of Take That and Mark was my first true love when I was 11 or so. His picture was hanging above my bed, wich I kissed goodnight every night. (I guess I've just spilled my age, haven't I? ;-) )
When I read the last comments, I think your last update was from 2 months ago. I really hope you can find the time, the energy and the inspiration to finish this story, because I'm hooked! Give me a warning when you'll write a book, I will be in front of the bookstore, waiting!

Love, Leah



leah leah
7/17/17

Dear You,

I've started reading this story two days ago. From the very first chapter I'm hooked and I can't stop reading. I don't want to go out, I don't want to sleep, I just want to read. Not to know how it will end actually, because I don't want it to end! So I try to find a balance between reading fast en making it last a little bit longer. I'm a fan of Harry from the day Sign of the times has released, so I have a lot of catching up to do. When you mention a song or a situation with One Direction, I look for it on Google or YouTube. So you're helping me to get to know the world of Harry and 1D, thank you for that! I've been to Paris a couple of times, It's such a beautiful city. I have good, romantic, memories of the times I've been there. You're writing about the city is so accurate and lively, it feels I'm there again by reading. My heart nearly broke for Harry and Jeanne when I read the last chapter of Dreaming of you. Happy to know there's a sequel, I going to start reading that now. I just wanted to write you this, because in the notes below the chapters you seem like a very nice, caring person. Thank you for writing such a beautiful story! (I hope my writing makes sence, English isn't my native language so I know I make a lot of mistakes. I'm sorry!)
Love, Leah

leah leah
7/15/17