Just Imagine

Having spent over an hour and a half crawling through rush-hour traffic, Pete Winston arrived at the office more fed up than usual. As Pete got to his desk his phone was ringing. Whenever there was a phone call at work it meant there was a problem, something was wrong, and the person on the other end of the line was blaming him. He shrugged out of his coat, and as he sat down, he picked up the phone. 

As he’d suspected, there was an irate customer on the phone complaining that the delivery scheduled for yesterday, hadn’t yet arrived. Pete struggled to get a word in, trying to apologise and insisting that he would check and get back to them.

Pete could feel the stress and anxiety welling up inside him. When had everything become so complicated? And it wasn’t just work. Life in general was just getting him down. Nothing seemed straight forward any more. The pressures day to day life, of working full-time, running a household, a car and what the youngsters called ‘adulting’, just seemed completely overwhelming. He wondered how anyone coped these days.

There seemed to be no let-up from the stress and pressure. He would go to bed feeling stressed and wake up feeling exhausted and almost unable to face the day ahead. As he would head for the bathroom, to get showered and ready for work, he felt like bursting into tears or screaming at the top of his voice. 

By lunchtime, Pete had already had more than he could take. He had to get away from his desk for a while. Despite the biting cold temperatures outside, he grabbed his sandwiches and headed for the door. He just had to get out of the office even if it was only for ten minutes. 

He walked briskly up the road, past the grey industrial estates and warehouses, around the built-up area that surrounded his office. He stopped and sat down on a bench. He sighed heavily, his breath hanging in the air. 

He ate his cheese and pickle sandwiches and tried to forget about everything, tried to just switch off, swigging from the bottle of water. Live in the moment, that’s what they said, wasn’t it? He rubbed his face with both hands, sitting there for a moment, hands over his face.

‘It’s a bit cold for a picnic, son.’ Said a voice from beside him.

Pete recognised the nasal Liverpool accent immediately. 

He turned to see the figure sitting next to him. Sure enough, seated on the bench beside him was John Lennon, his teenage idol. Lennon’s hair touched his shoulders and he wore a blue denim jacket over a white t shirt with black trim with New York City emblazoned on it.

Lennon stared at Pete through his trade-mark round granny glasses. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Pete found himself responding to the figure. 

‘I just had to get out of the office. Everything seems to be getting on top of me at the moment.’ Pete said.

John Lennon nodded, then turned and stared into the distance.

‘I think I’m losing my grip on reality.’ Pete said. 

‘Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.’ Shrugged Lennon.

‘I’m having a bad time right now. The fact that I’m talking to you, suggests how mashed my head is. Life just seems to be one problem after another.’ Pete said.

‘There are no problems, only solutions.’ John replied.

Pete simply shook his head. When he glanced back, he was alone once more. The figure was gone.

‘Geez, what a day.’ He sighed.

Wondering just what problems the afternoon would hold, Pete reluctantly trudged back towards the office. He tried not to dwell on the hallucinations of the famous musician. He just hoped that things would get back to normal. If he thought about it too much, maybe the stress of it would cause the visions to happen again. He shook his head in attempt to clear the distressing thoughts.

Just after three o’clock that afternoon, Pete was summoned into a meeting with the top management of the firm. They always called them meetings but, as usual, the tone of the encounter resembled more of a police interrogation, with Pete being the prime suspect to whatever crime they imagined he’d committed. 

As his manager was grilling Pete about a delivery that had gone wrong due to a warehouse mix-up, a familiar figure appeared in the seat next to his boss. Pete gasped and stared at John Lennon.

Of course, nobody else could see him. This was clearly a figment of his imagination. Pete tried to concentrate on the instructions being given by his line managers, while Lennon scoffed and rolled his eyes.

‘Chatter on, son, chatter on.’ Lennon said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

As the meeting finished, and Pete headed for the door, Lennon shook his head in disgust and vanished.

With his head pounding, Pete walked right by his desk, grabbed his mug, and headed for the works kitchen. He needed a strong cup of tea. What he actually needed was a holiday, somewhere with a pool-side bar and glorious sunshine, but a nice brew away from his desk would be a start.

He made his mug of tea and leaned against the kitchen counter. Just as he was taking a sip of tea, John Lennon appeared, perched on one of the dining tables. Pete spat out the hot tea in shock.

The former Beatle pushed his round glasses up and gave Pete a grin.

‘I give up.’ Pete said. ‘How am I actually supposed to cope with all this going on?’

‘You just have to let it go. You need to get off the merry-go-round now and then.’ Lennon said.

‘That’s easier said than done. I’ve got problems piling up all around me, and your advice is just to chill out?’ Pete said.

At that moment the door opened. His colleague, Julia gave him a puzzled look.

‘Who are you talking to, love?’ She asked.

‘John Lennon.’ Pete replied.

‘Very funny!’ Julia said, crossing the empty room to make herself a cup of tea.

Pete turned to find the musician had disappeared once again, as quickly and inexplicably as he’d arrived.

That evening, as he was watching an action film and having a cup of tea, his mother called him on his mobile phone.

‘Hey, Ma, how are you?’ He said, his voice deliberately chirpy and bright.

His mother saw through the façade straight away.

‘I’m okay, but I’m worried about you, love. You just seem so flat at the moment.’

Pete went to speak, to insist, he was okay, that everything was fine, but the words stuck in his throat. Finally, he spoke, admitting the truth.

‘I’m down at the moment. Things just seem to be getting on top of me. I’m not feeling it at the moment.’ He said.

‘You should go and see the doctor. They’ll help.’ His mother said.

Pete said nothing.

‘Peter, listen to your mother. Give them a call, okay.’

‘Fine, I’ll make an appointment.’ He agreed.

‘Good lad.’  

The following afternoon, Pete was shown into the doctor’s room. The doctor removed her reading glasses and gave him a polite smile. Pete took a seat.

‘What can we do for you today, Peter?’ She asked.

Pete explained about how stressed and how down he was emotionally. He wondered if there was anything she could do to help with the way he was feeling. The doctor nodded, listening intently.

‘And what is causing these feelings?’ She asked.

‘I can’t even pin it down to one thing. It’s actually distressing how I feel right now.’

‘I understand. You should try and relax, keep calm about things. Try not to over-think. There is a danger you can become stressed about feeling stressed, worrying about worrying, as it were. It can become quite the rabbit hole.’ She said.

‘There’s something else.’ Pete said. ‘You’ll think I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been hallucinating, seeing things that aren’t there, that couldn’t possibly be there.’

‘Would you be able to describe the things you are seeing?’

‘This will sound ridiculous, but I’m seeing John Lennon, the Beatle. He talks to me, we talk just as we’re doing now.’ Pete admitted.

‘The mind is a strange thing. I’ll give you something for your nerves and some leaflets about support groups in your local area. Come back and see me next week. Don’t worry, Peter, we’ll get you sorted out.’ She said.

Pete tucked the leaflets in his pocket. He thanked the doctor and left the room, closing the door behind him. 

The doctor turned to the figure leaning on the filing cabinet in the corner of the room.

‘The poor fellow, I hope what I’ve given him does the trick.’ The doctor said. 

‘It’s more common than you think.’ replied Elvis, fidgeting with a sequin on the sleeve of his white jumpsuit.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom