Fame

I had always wanted to be famous.
Director, actor, writer, model, anything, as long as I am well known. I now understand it isn’t all fun and games, and that I don’t even want to be well known anymore. I realised I liked the private life all because of one nightmare. One terrifying nightmare.
I had slept well the night I experienced it, and probably wouldn’t have remembered about if it hadn’t been so confronting. So I’ll tell you how it went.
I was strolling casually in my mansion on the polished marble floor, past my closet, which was boasting hundreds of gleaming, golden trophies. Emmys, Oscars, Academy Awards, golden globes, you name it, it was on the shelf, glimmering. You might be thinking, ‘that can’t be a nightmare, it sounds like the good life!’
Well, if it weren’t for the rest of the dream I would have agreed pretty quickly. I wish this next moment had never happened, I really do. I heard the news starting on my large screen HD 3D TV.
“Breaking news,” The reporter said dramatically, as I noticed a picture of me stealing an iPhone from a store in the top right corner of the screen, “Well-known celebrity, John Smith, has been caught stealing an iPhone from a store in Collaroy,” She gestured toward the picture, “Police have reason to believe this is part of several earlier robberies, so he will be put on trial on the 14th of November.”
My mouth gaped open as I watched a security video of myself stealing a phone. Then, while I was looking around my house, looking for a way to escape this dream, I noticed a man, peering into my window. As soon as I turned my head to look at him a blinding flash of light disorientated me. A paparazzo!
I decided it was just a desperate fan, so I just flashed my best smile and turned back to the trophy shelf. Then came another flash, I turned around, and another. This strange man was constantly snapping photos of me, so I covered my face with my hand, peeking through a gap between two of my fingers.
He appeared to be gesturing for someone to come towards him. So another man came to his area, and another, and another. Soon there were about ten men at my window, flashing photos of me. Creeps! I thought as I tried to shoo them away. They began to bang at the window so I mouthed “Get away from my house!” Hoping they could lip-read. They still continued to hit the window. Then it cracked…….and smashed. I panicked and screamed, bracing for an avalanche of paparazzi ready to knock me over.
Instead, the horde of people stopped, surprising me so much I teetered and fell backwards, hitting my head hard on the polished marble floor. Everything I saw was fuzzy, and the teeming horde of paparazzi had surrounded me, lying on the floor. I reached my arm behind my head, I felt that the back of my head was wet, in a bad way. I weighed my hand down using my head, to make sure I didn’t have to see the red liquid which is probably blood, something I didn’t want to see at the time. I was already in pain, so I didn’t want to prove to myself that I was injured. Screaming and yelling, the horde of paparazzi all ran out of the large room, squeezing out of the broken window, trying to get away from my half-conscious self, lying on the ground, moaning.
I had left the TV on, so I saw a video of a birds-eye view of my house on the news. They have a helicopter! I could hear police and ambulance sirens outside my house, in my backyard. A policeman walked in through the broken window and stared at me. Then my vision was smothered with darkness.
I woke up, in my bed, dripping with perspiration. You may be wondering why a dream like this affected me enough to end my own dream of fame. If you had had the dream, you would understand the true feeling of fear that I felt, seeping into my nerves. The feeling of shock sickening me when I realised I was injured. It was only a dream but it felt so...real.
If you had experienced the dream yourself you would know.
Fame is too much for me.

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