Someone Special (series)

[thekeyholder91]

Title: Someone Special part 1. Introduction
Author:thekeyholder (Brigi)
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: PG
Beta: The lovely ms_belle10  :) Thank you! :)
Summary: Is there such a thing as destiny? Do you believe in dreams? Dom and Matt dream about each other, yet they don't know anything about the person they spend their nighttime with. Is a meeting in real life possible?
Feedback: would be lovely if you have some time! <3
Warnings: Nothing in this chapter.
Disclaimers: As you probably know, I don’t own Muse or any of the songs mentioned in this story, but original aspects belong to me. So don't steal, please!
Author's note: This is my newest series, let me tell you its story! The idea crossed my mind when I heard the beautiful song Someone Special by Poets of the Fall for the first time. I think this story really represents me and I'd love to hear what you think about it!

Dedicated to the dearest starlight_myth who celebrates her birthday tomorrow ! <3 You are my "someone special". This story wouldn't exist without your support and help! Merci beaucoup et je t'aime! :)

Beautiful banner made by starlight_myth 

Someone Special – part 1. Introduction

DOMINIC

 

Pick-pock-pick-pock-pick-pock.

 

I wake up to the sound of rain upon my sill, ever soothing. The world is dark and warm because I refuse to open my eyes. I turn to the wall and concentrate on that strange vortex of sleep in the hope that it would suck me back in the magical realm of dreams, a realm so large and full of possibilities that it can never be fully explored.

 

I know I dreamed of something pleasant and I’d like to relive that moment of unspoilt joy. Luckily, I soon slip into the so called alpha-state, a meditative place between sleep and wakefulness. Many people (artists, scientists) claimed that they “received” genius ideas while floating in this paralysing state because there was no barrier between them and the world of ideas.

 

Glimpses of images run on my mental screen like an old and faded picture strip: lots of greens, kids running past me with the hidden aim of pushing me over, a silver umbrella is spinning and I get lost in its sickening swirls. Now I’m trying to find something or somebody, a frequent motif in my dreams. I see the reflection of a rainbow in a puddle, but when I look up to the sky, I fall and everything blurs.

 

Then I am walking tiredly in an empty city and stop at a coffee shop. Bored, I look inside and I instantly discover the person I was looking for. My palms glue to the shop window, but my breath steams it up so much that I can only see the face of the mysterious stranger. His ocean- blue eyes widen as he seems to recognise me and he springs up, toppling his cup of tea.

 

Strangely, the cup was filled with fire and it covers everything in the twinkling of an eye, me included. Interestingly, the fire doesn’t burn me, and the last things I see are the blue eyes which outshine even the brightness of the fire.

 

My morning starts slowly; I dress automatically which is pretty stupid of me since I almost paired my yellow jeans with a red shirt. Horror! I blame the dream for distracting me, though I must admit that I was always fascinated by dreams, even as a child. As I munch my toast and drink a cup of coffee, I ask myself whether it has a meaning.

 

An ancient Greek philosopher affirmed that there are two types of dreams: the useless ones which don’t mean anything and the good dreams sent by the gods and which must be interpreted. ‘In which category does my dream fall into?’ I ask myself as I’m lacing my shoes and checking that I leave everything in order. I have no idea yet, but the image of those pretty eyes doesn’t leave me throughout the day.

 

 

MATTHEW

 

“What did you dream last night?”

 

A question I hated even as a child. Whether asked by my parents, brother, grandma or sometimes even a friend, I grunted “Nothing”, even though I knew that was false. Everybody dreams, we just usually forget 80% of the illogical images we see every night.

 

I choose to display an irritated expression at the breakfast table to avoid the useless and endless queries of my mother and the lame interference bids of my father. I can’t help it, but they get on my nerves with their trivial conversations. Or maybe I shouldn’t have graduated from three universities in the first place. Whatever.

 

I step to the mirror in the hallway and check that my shirt is spotless and free of any creases. I put on my coat and stare at the pale figure staring back at me. My mouth is slightly curving downwards today and a few hairs are sticking up at the back of my head. Not to mention my eyes which are usually clear, ice blue, but today they seem so dull and they have acquired a steely tint I really dislike. I mean, blue is more special, did you know that only a few creatures can actually see this colour? Anyway, I have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train.

 

I live with my parents in a small town, but I work in London at the Physics Department of the Imperial College. Oh, right, my name is Matthew. Not a rare name, but I guess it’s better than being called Mohammed, the most common name in the world. Twenty-seven years hang heavily on me. Hey, don’t laugh, in ancient Egypt I’d be considered quite old – people then died when they were around thirty.

 

I like travelling by train because I seem to think more clearly when I stare out the window, provided the compartment is not filled with bouncy kids shouting the latest pop song’s verses. But today is quiet and my thoughts whirl so fast. An average man has approximately seventy thousand thoughts in a single day. Me? At least double that. I’m calculating everything I set my eyes on: the speed of the car passing me, the gravitational power affecting a hanging apple (thank you, Newton!), how much pressure I have to apply to open a jar or anything that with a bit of mental arithmetic can make my life easier.

 

However, my secret passion is cosmology. Stars, suns, planets, even aliens electrify me like nothing else! I wish its exploration would be easier. My secret dream is to step on each planet’s surface, except of course for Jupiter, which is composed only by gases. Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that ‘d’ word, now my mind will wander to last night! Matthew Bellamy, get yourself together and don’t wear that dumb face, at least wait until you arrange things with the secretary.

 

Miss Farlow, the abovementioned secretary, is looking at me with those huge eyes of hers. I swear, she’s like an ostrich: her eyes are bigger than her brain. I get the mail and sign some papers before hurrying to my little office. Its walls are covered with posters of my beloved stars and planets to constantly remind me of my dream. Damn! Damn you, capricious mind, for always reminding me of it. Okay, I guess the subject is inevitable, so why not? Let’s talk it over already.

 

So, my usual dreams consist of me revealing that the Queen is a reptilian, the world is being hit by an asteroid, me falling into a black hole or me being abducted by aliens; however last night I dreamed something completely different. I know it’s nonsense and that it was probably caused by the book I read yesterday, but it seems that it requires more time to be digested.

 

I felt lost in the college building. More precisely, I felt like I didn’t belong here, so I ran out and my feet carried me to a park. An old man passed me, bobbed a curtsy and strangely, he dropped his umbrella. I grabbed it and wanted to warn him about the lost object, but he disappeared. The umbrella suddenly started rotating in my hand and the image faded.

 

I found myself in an old cinema and I couldn’t find the exit. Suddenly, a movie started rolling and I saw a young, blonde man walking up and down nervously. In that moment I knew that he was waiting for me and I had to watch him becoming sadder and sadder because I didn’t appear. It was so terrible!

 

Suddenly, I was sitting at a table and when I looked up, I saw this man staring at me with such shining eyes! I was happy to have finally met him, but I accidentally knocked a cup over and set everything on fire. Even him. But the flames didn’t do any harm; he kept smiling until I woke up.

 

Now, I don’t think that I should pay any more attention to this. On average, we have one thousand and five hundred dreams a year, so why would this be more important than the others? Look at my life; you now see how it works. What is a glimpse of dream compared to the eternity of stars? What does a random image created by my mind have to do with the perfectly logical laws of physics? Nothing, nothing, nothing!