Sometimes Dreams Come True

This is going to be the last that you'll hear from me for a while. I still have several commitments that I've got to fulfill. In the mean time, I wish nothing but the best for all of you. In the mean time, I'll see you when I get done...whenever that is...lol.

MoogPlayer

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If wishes were horses,

Then dreamers would ride...

Jon Butcher

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Have you ever wished really hard...and then prayed that it would come true? Well, this is a story about answered prayers.

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Hi, my name is Marcus Richard Parker Jr., but all of my friends call me "Rick", which was the name my father chose to call me. I'm well past fifty years old now, but what you're about to read happened when I was in my second year of college, the same year that I turned twenty.

I stand six feet, three and a half inches tall, with dark brown hair and eyes; and I weigh right in the neighborhood of two hundred and fifty pounds. However, I didn't begin to grow to the height and weight that I am now until I was twenty years old, and then I seemed to "Sprout-up overnight," my Mom affectionately told me.

I take after my father, Markus "Mark" Richard Parker Sr., when it comes to my looks, but my personality comes from my mother, Jennifer Wagner-Parker. They're both great people who not only raised me well, but they are also two people whom I love very much, and always will.

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At the tender age of eight, and in order to save me from also being a clumsy teenager later on, my father placed me in a dojo under the instruction of an old Japanese friend of his; Mr. Shigeru Kazamatsu. I was allowed to address him only as "Sensei" while I was under his instruction in the dojo, and "Kazamatsusan, or Mister Kazamatsu" the rest of the time. He was a very nice, as well as a very wise man; and not only did his teachings help me with my school work, but his influence provided me with the self-esteem, which, almost every high school teenager has issues with during that period in their lives.

During both my freshman and sophomore years in high school, I kept to myself mostly, making my junior and senior years even more desolate than the first two years. Still though, I did have a few friends that I hung out with, some of which I'm still in contact with today; and that was what made it all bearable. But because I still was terribly shy around girls back then, I went to college a virgin.

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All throughout my martial arts training, which is called "Togakure Ninjutsu"; Kazamatsusan was constantly telling me that what he was teaching me was to be used for defense only, and that no one was to know that he was teaching me the things he did. He said that there would always be someone who was willing to try to push me into fighting if they had an idea of the skills I possessed. When I would ask him about belt colors, the ranking awards that you would be given in almost all dojos; he simply smiled, and in his broken English, said, "Why worry about belt color, Ricksan? Belt hold up pants, no?" and then he would laugh and move on to something else.

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I'd worked out five afternoons a week from the time I was barely eight until I was well past my eighteenth birthday. At the end of the last summer before I went to college, Kazamatsusan called me into his office after class that day.

"What can I do for you, Sensei?" I happily asked, as I took a seat.

"Here," he smiled, throwing what I knew was a black belt into my lap, "Time you wear this. Put on, and then we meet in dojo."

"For what?" I grinned.

"Get on mat, now," he barked, quickly trying to hit my chin, which I blocked, "Time for you to prove you have skill to wear belt."

"Oh," I cockily laughed, rising from my seat, and walking back into the dojo while traditionally tying the new colored belt securely around my waist, "It's going to be like that, huh?"

"Just like that," he grinned, laughing as he made his way toward me across the mat, "Now we see how good you think you are."

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I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had totally absorbed everything he'd taught me; and while we were going to fight full contact, most all students are taught, from day one, to pull punches and kicks when sparring with their Sensei.

We fought for a good twenty minutes, with each of us landing choice punches and kicks here and there. However, I sensed that Kazamatsusan was holding back; and with a grin plastered across my face, I laughed and said, "My grandmother hits harder than that," and no sooner had the words left my mouth, when, at lightning speed, he landed a hard kick, off of a fake punch; catching me off guard with the kick landing right between the eyes, which knocked me directly off of my feet and straight back onto my young and arrogant ass.

"Stupid boy," he teased, "You talk when you should be listening and watching."

"You're right," I smiled, as he helped me up, "I'm sorry, Sensei."

"You have learned much, and can now wear black belt," he grinned, "But you also still have much to learn."

"Yes, sir," I proudly smiled, then bowed in respect, proudly wearing my new black belt, "Thank you, Sensei. I promise to honor you...always."

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Kazamatsu was not only a positive influence in my younger years, but as I grew older, he was always there to impart his wisdom upon me for whatever difficult situation he always somehow seemed to know that I was in. He was an amazing guy, and it's safe to say that I love and respect him almost as much as my parents.

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The beginning of my freshman year in college opened a new way of life to me. It was during the seventies; and what a time it was. It was also the year I turned nineteen and everywhere I looked on campus, I saw things like peace symbols hanging around the necks of people wearing tie-dyed tee shirts, as well as other clothing that society dictated as abnormal back then.

However, the girls were all very nice, very pretty, and very friendly. But then again, this was the "Love Generation" after all so; why wouldn't they be that way? And because my parents were, and had always been, very sweet people, my father never once said anything about the length of my hair, which was now well past my waist by this time; insuring that I fit in perfectly among my peers at college.

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I was in a four story, coed dorm with the girls on the first, second, and fourth floors, with the guys on the third floor. My room mate, a guy named Michael "Mike" Kelly, and I were on the third floor, room number, 314; and from what I could tell after my first week there, I was going to have a blast at college. It was nothing to see girls running around all floors of the building half dressed, and/or half undressed, at all hours of the day and night...man, it was great.

I was majoring in English with dreams of one day becoming a best selling novelist. You see, I had an affinity for writing, and because of my high SAT scores, I was in college on a full four-year academic scholarship. That didn't mean that I didn't have difficulty with some of my other subjects, I did. One of those was the public speaking class I had to take in high school. I was terrified to speak in front of one person, much less a whole group of people, which resulted in a barely passing grade at the end of the first grading period. However, through the help of my Dad, as well as Mr. Kazamatsu, I soon got over my nerves, and from then on, I made a solid "A" in that class.

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Chapter One

My freshman year of college more or less helped me to get over my shyness, especially toward girls. It's not like I had a choice; hell, I lived in a coed dormitory that had four floors, three of which had girls, who, like I said before, ran around half dressed all the time, and at all hours of the night and day.

They were very pretty, but most of all; these girls were sweethearts, every single one of them. And after only being there for a little over a month, it seemed like almost all of them knew my name. Granted, they came in all sizes, shapes and colors, but my Mom taught me from the time I was little that there is something beautiful about every woman, hence the reason that I got along quite well with all of them.

Hey, don't get me wrong, there were several that I wouldn't have minded losing my virginity to, but I had only just begun to feel comfortable simply talking to women. I didn't know what I would've done had one of them had approached and/or propositioned me. Still though, as Mr. Kazamatsu used to tell me when I was younger, "You must crawl before you walk, Ricksan," it made me realize that I'd made some major progress that year, no matter how small.

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My second year at college is where I came into my own, and it's where this story really begins. It happened during the second week of the first semester. I was sitting in my dorm room studying one afternoon when my roommate, Mike, came into the room out of breath, and panting, said, "Rick...hurry...you gotta come and see this, man." I dropped what I was doing and quickly followed him down the stairs to discover some sort of fracas happening out in the courtyard downstairs outside of the dorm building.

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I couldn't hear what was being said, but I saw three guys who, I assumed correctly, were jocks, football players to be more precise. I also saw a very pretty girl standing between them with another guy that was smaller, and he looked scared; no, make that terrified. I suddenly got an awful feeling that something bad was about to happen so; I made my way closer toward them in order to hear what was being said.

"What're you doing messing around with my girl?" the biggest of the three growled at the smaller guy, "I'll pinch your head off, you little shit."

"I'm not your girl," the girl nastily replied, "And he was helping me with my homework so; leave him alone, you asshole."

"Who're you calling an asshole, bitch?" he spat, raising his hand to her.

I immediately stepped between the two of them, facing the jock, and firmly said, "It takes a real slime ball to hit a woman, don't you think?"

"Fuck off," he snapped, "Who the hell are you?"

"Your worst nightmare if you don't leave these people alone," I firmly replied, making sure that the girl and the smaller guy were now both behind me and a safe distance away from us.

I was about in inch or so taller than him and I outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. Plus, I was broader across the chest by a couple of inches so; he backed away with fear written across hid face and said, "Look, dude, this doesn't concern you."

"Oh, yes it does," I laughed, "You three jerks were about to gang up on someone smaller than you and you..." I paused for effect, "...were about to hit that pretty girl over there so; yes, it does concern me."

"Oh, yeah?" he sneered, "Well, you can't take all three of us, badass."

"I can always take you out first," I laughed, "Are you up for it?"

"My ass," he growled, taking a swing at me.

I was easily able to block his punch, and in doing so; I also gave him a quick, hard, and solid punch to the solar plexus. Of course it knocked him backwards making him stumble and eventually fall back and onto the ground, holding his stomach while trying to regain his breath.

"Anyone else?" I growled, glaring at the other two. And then when I received no response, I simply looked at them like they were the stupid assholes that they initially appeared to be and said, "Why don't you take your idiot friend out of here before all three of you end up getting seriously hurt?"

As the two guys picked up their friend and dragged him off, all of the people who'd been just standing by and watching began to cheer and clap. I didn't stick around though; I simply went back to my dorm room to avoid having to answer any questions regarding my fighting skills. To be honest though, I was still somewhat shy, and that was the real reason that I left so quickly.

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I studied for another couple of hours until my stomach began to growl. And because it was Friday, I decided that as soon as my room mate, as well as my best friend, Mike, could get his slow ass ready, we would go out and get something to eat and then go partying afterwards.

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"Hey, I know," Mike knowingly grinned, as soon as he was ready, "Let's go to that new barbecue place downtown."

"That sounds good," I unsuspectingly replied smiling, "I haven't had any good barbecue in a long time, let's go."

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After riding in my truck to the downtown area, we located the barbecue restaurant, which was called "Evans Barbecue Pit," and then pulled into the parking lot, got out of the truck and went inside.

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We were immediately seated by a pretty girl, who apparently was the hostess, not too long after we walked in. However, you can only imagine my surprise as Mike and I were perusing our menus, when the server who appeared at our table to take our orders turned out to be the girl who'd been involved in the events of earlier that afternoon.

"You're the guy that saved me from Eddie Ross this afternoon;" she smiled, looking at me, "Aren't you?"

Let me take a moment to describe her. She stood about five feet, nine inches tall, and had long dark hair the same color and length as mine, with mesmerizing, beautifully hypnotic, deep, blue eyes; which, I felt were looking all the way into my soul. And to quote Homer, she had a face that could launch a thousand ships. But she was wearing a work uniform so; it was difficult to tell how she was built. Still though, I could tell that she probably weighed somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred and twenty-five pounds, or so...and I definitely liked what I saw.

"He sure is," Mike proudly smiled, before I had the chance to respond, "And his name is Rick Parker."

"Hello, Rick Parker," she sweetly replied, as she gently placed her hand upon my shoulder while holding my soul a captive prisoner with those beautiful blue eyes, "My name is Kate Evans, and it's very nice to meet you."

Because my previous year at college had basically taught me how to handle myself around pretty girls without looking like a total ass, I simply smiled and said, "Hello, it's nice to meet you, too."

She held me in a tender gaze for a brief moment, and then looking between the both of us, she smiled and said, "What can I get for you guys?"

We gave her our food and drink orders, and as she was walking away, Mike looked at me and excitedly said, "She likes you, pal."

"Nah," I chuckled, "You're mistaken, my goofy room mate."

"Not this time, buddy boy," he teased, "You wait and see."

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It hadn't been more than a couple of minutes since our order had been taken, when Kate, in the company of an older gentleman who was wearing a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a nice dress shirt, came to the table with our drinks.

Kate put our beverages on the table in front of us, and then after gently placing her hand back on my shoulder, told the man, "Daddy, this is the boy I was telling you about."

"Katie told me that your name is Rick Parker," he smiled, "Am I right?"

"Yes sir," I respectfully replied, "That's correct."

"My name is Roger Evans, Katie's father," he said smiling, extending his hand, "And I wanted to thank you for looking out for my daughter today."

"It was no big deal, sir," I humbly replied, shaking his hand, "I just did what anyone else would've done."

"No," he knowingly replied, "My daughter told me that there were more than several people just standing around watching; and you...well, you were the only one willing to stand up to those three guys."

"Some idiot was going to slap her," I told him, nodding toward Kate, "And I was taught that only scum bags hit girls."

"And that's why you and your friend, here, are going to eat and drink all your bellies can hold for free tonight," he heartily grinned, "And I'm not taking "No" for an answer," and then he turned and walked away chuckling before anyone could reply.

"Mmm," Kate tenderly cooed, placing her soft, smooth palm to my cheek, "Pretty boy," and then she turned and playfully trotted away, sweetly smiling at me over her shoulder once more before she returned to her duties.

"See," Mike laughed, "I told you she liked you, didn't I?"

"Hmm," I happily smiled, "I think you might be right...this time anyway..."

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We ate until we could hold no more, with Kate making sure that our drinks stayed full at all times, and giving me either a wink, or a warm and gentle smile, giggling as she walked away. I made sure that I left a nice tip on the table before we left, hoping that Kate would appreciate it.

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Right as I was about to get into my truck, I heard a now familiar female voice calling my name. I turned around to find Kate quickly making her way toward me across the parking lot with a bright shining smile on her face.

"You left before I could give you this," she giggled, handing me a piece of paper with her name and number on it, "Plus, I wanted to thank you, personally."

"Come on, Kate," I grinned, "You don't have to do that, especially after all that food and everything."

"Oh, yes, I do," she urgently replied, and then gave me the sweetest, most tender kiss I'd ever received. Then she gently pulled away and softly said, "Call me...okay?"

"You can count on it," I smiled, "When?"

"Tomorrow morning," she sweetly grinned, "I'm off the whole day."

"Ok," I grinned, "I will, I promise."

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That night Mike and I went to a very cool nightclub called, "Sam's". They had a bad ass rock band playing the first night of a two night gig that weekend, reminding me that Mike had mentioned them earlier in the week. And as we were paying the cover charge at the door to get in, I heard them covering Jimi Hendrix's version of "Red House".

"Hell yeah," I grinned, as we sat down at the bar, "I could get used to this."

"I told you, didn't I?" he laughed, playfully shoving my arm, "Just like I was right about Kate, too."

"Yeah," I smiled, at the thought of her.

"You like her," he grinned, "Don't you?"

"Come on, Mike," I knowingly grinned, "What's not to like?"

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I woke up around nine-thirty the next morning with a smile on my face. Sure, I'd had a good night at "Sam's", but the smile had nothing to do with the nightclub we'd gone to. I was thinking about Kate; and after digging the slip of paper, which bore her number, from out of my pants pocket, I picked up the phone and called her.

"Good Morning," she happily chirped, "This is Kate."

"Good morning to you, too," I smiled, "This is..."

"Rick," she softly purred, gently interrupting me, "Good morning sweetie. How're you this morning,"

"I'm good," I chuckled, "And you?"

"I was just thinking about you," she smiled, "And I was hoping you would call."

"I promised you that I would."

"I'm glad you did," she sweetly replied, "Would you like to get together and do something today? I can't wait to see you again."

"That sounds great," I excitedly said, "What time?"

"I'll meet you in the lobby in about twenty minutes," she giggled, "Is that okay with you?"

"That's fine," I replied, "You must live real close to here."

"I do," she knowingly chuckled, "As a matter of fact, you live in room three fourteen, and I live in two fourteen, directly beneath you...."

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I wanted to look my best so; I took a quick shower and shaved, and then put my wet hair in a ponytail before I got dressed. I wore a pair of Levi's 501 blue jeans, with my favorite tee shirt that I got at a Rick Wakeman concert...and a pair of tennis shoes, making sure to take one last look at myself before I left.

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Kate met me downstairs wearing a pair of tight white denim jeans, tennis shoes, with a dark blue tee shirt that fit her perfectly; and when I got a look at her figure, I silently thanked God for making a woman that beautiful who seemed to like me. Her hair flowed gently down her back, and I've already said how beautiful she was, but there seemed to be something about her, which, while I couldn't quite put my finger on it, it made me find her even more attractive that day. However, I was just happy to see her again, and I would worry about the rest of "it" later.