Bremen, finished 5th of December 2002, English version.

It's now, purely and simply written there:
Meeting with Michael. And is still unbelievable that it really, very really became reality.
To be very sincere, I would gladly keep everything to myself and liked to lock it in my little heart chamber into the treasure chest for the finest, most valuable treasures. Perhaps after a fairly long time this feeling would move, a publication would take the magic of the event.
But, I don't forget it, I promised it and asked you to preserve patience the last months, 'cause I almost could live for nothing other more as to let become true my dream.

So, that was the introduction.

When I wrote these words on November, 24th, 2002, I did not know that I would already regret it after a week. A week in which I felt rarely so lonely, because about lacking sympathy I could not complain myself. So my initial doubts have been confirmed and a shadow got down on my memory. But this is my report.

And for all of them those don't know the early history, yet of this a short summary:

It began in London. Exactly on the trip from London to Exeter in the Royal Car. There I delivered on 14th June 2002 to Uri Geller my parcel done up with red-roses-wrapping-paper (inspiration by Carla) with all sorts of things and the most important one, my Art Work Book, with my painted, drawn and collaged works of art dedicated to Michael.

After an unforgettable stay (Michael "got on the bus") in London already returned on Sunday while Michael and many other fans still stayed there. On Monday, me then received a call of our dear Claudia, another special thanks to her, which informed me that Michael had sent out his Adlatus to keep a lookout at the front of the hotel "Renaissance" for me, a certain Dagmar Herrmann.

In such a way the contact came about between me and Mike, not Michael, but this "loyal Eckhard", and after I've sent photographs of my finished art works for a view, and if they would find favour with the eyes - in this case - of the "Almighty", well, I do not want to go so far to say it was a matter of life and death, but yet about my fate in a way, I would be welcome to deliver it at the next occasion. I was informed, they found, yes, even Michael himself was very impressed. O GOD!!!

And Berlin, that was the right opportunity, of course! If each and every of you have so much fantasy to imagine what was going on inside of me, when I started the trip, there by my side the wonderful man in my life for the moral and organizational support as two rather big plastic pockets, in which the precious pieces, opening to me hopefully the door to paradise, itself had to be patiently up to the presentation like me too, and all the other stuff what one still take along on a trip. We arrived our destination, without hurting somebody seriously, ourselves also safe and sound.

After Michael with retinue has found place in the "Adlon", I contacted Mike after an adequate rest time, who gave the date to me in front of the hotel for Wednesday between 12 and 14 o'clock, whence he would pick up me and my freight. How you know and all those which were present there, it was ass cold, and the same one I almost froze off myself as waited two and one half hours for admission in vain. It happened completely nothing until a police loudspeaker exclaimed the to me catastrophical message: People, you can go home, Michael Jackson has just left the hotel by the back exit.

Every hope letting off, an almost frozen off fingertip yes was only a tiny little thing, *throwing* into a taxi and back into the hotel, there with lead in the legs the stairs up, onto the bed and howl, howl, howl. The world sinks!!!! Nevertheless there was still this wondrous human being, the real existing patron of Daggi, who with touching and encouraging words again raised me up and regular ordered, to ask once again by hotel phone the "true Eckhard" Mike, why one displaced me. Everything was good! Michael wanted simply to visit with his both elder Kids, as long as it was still bright enough, the Berliner Zoo, and one was now there next to the monkeys and giraffes, but one had by no means forgotten the Daggi with her paintings.

So, have another go. Within the next half hour come to same place. Since I wanted not to expose my endangered fingertip further cold influences, I asked directly during my recent arrival a hotel employee for the reception clerk, to whom I had already described my awkward situation, as Michael zoomed off, without telling a word to me or to the others. This, a helpful human being, gave the permission to wait so long for Mike in the foyer.

Ha ha, folks, actually the whole story becomes much too long, if I also tell, how it has been in the Lounge. Man, woman, children, simply fabulous!!! Hey, one can already understand there, why, the rich men and prominent persons do not want to appertain to the primitive miserable people with small earnings. Therefore, the capuccino costs 6 Euro, but that was worth the thing too, to it there were titbits, that one common name only cookies; and this waiter that I confronted directly with it that that is not my price range, didn't twist the face, not even batting the eyelashes, a real pro, afterwards he even bestowed me with a understanding smile, I already felt nearly belonging to it *g*

However please, you want to know certainly these details not necessarily. We come for main thing. And now it becomes of course solemn and me very funny around the heart. I have to take a small braek to wipe away my tears. It lasted only a short while, I saw there Mike already coming up to me. Hi, Dagmar, he speaks simply perfectly the Dagmar. Hi, Mike. do you have your paintings? Which question? Still quick a couple of words to my frame of mind. You will not believe it, after all the excitement and the supposed catastrophic disappointment I had been very calm, totally calmly, as I would at least have taken two Valium. Therefore, I did not stumble behind Mike, but went very upright and composed if as I would do that every day, simply deliver once two paintings in Michael Jackson's suite.

We went with the lift upwards into the, was it the the third floor? A long corridor along, that now after all seemed never-ending to me, some people of the security were then in viewpoint, it had no doubt to be then there. Mike took along one of my paintings, "Popmozart", into the chambers; when I unpacked it and delivered it to him, he said: "Wow". That, of course, did a lot of good to me and waiting then began again. Yes, outside on the hall. How would you have bear that? And it lasted at least a quarter hour.

Bodyguards and hotel personnel in the meantime passed me by, I saw once Karen Faye coming out of Michael's room, and I heard loud laughing and screaming children. That are not ours, said a bodyguard. Therefore, I combined, other children are still in the suite, with what I kept right as the door opened itself suddenly and a German married couple came out with two super-fair children passing me by, as if they would have seen the Christ-child and perhaps also they had. Later it turned out, that it was the family Wolf from Meissen, victims of the flood in Eastern Germany.

Well, and I was now at the line. Mike beckoned me to come closer. After I entered the suite, I had to wait again in a kind of anteroom, where however I could fling already a look into one of the rooms, there was Michael's jacket, that I call always the wandering preacher jacket, casually flung onto a table. Next door were heard suddenly wonderfully intoned sounds at the piano, it was first something classical, baroque, and after this Gershwin, I have guessed, and was surprised and I asked myself, whether Michael can play piano so brilliantly, what I don't know up to now, although I had intended to ask, to this it did not come. Suddenly a sweet titch with highly raised head marched past me that gave only a fleeting look to me after my "Hi", before he put his fair small head through the door into the hall, but there immediately scared away by Mike and again was sent back into the insides. Now, you can think it was nobody different as Prince, the heir to the throne and I had made no court curtsey;)

I had heard to dato no word of Michael, several voices spoke and the children raged aloud, laughed and shouted with a man that obviously played some wild game with them, but whose voice was not that of Michael. But suddenly, my heart almost stopped beating, I heard speaking him with Mike. Unfortunately, it was impossible for me to understand, perhaps my senses did somehow function correctly no more, what was the matter. But obviously now it was a question of me. Whom do you have next for me, Mike? It sounded a little resigned and the answer: Now comes the Artist!

Goodness gracious! Mike opened the door and gave me by nod to understand to enter. THE BIG MOMENT!

The room which I entered was the bedroom! I would gladly be turned around again, because I felt seldom so beside it, so got into, so to stamp into the real privacy of another person, that I realized suddenly and hampered my step. I stood rooted to the ground. Right of me, in front of the bed, Prince and Paris played with a man with building bricks or similar. I could grasp everything with an enormous clarity, the children are delightful, like dolls, so pretty to regard.

The room lay in dim light, the curtains had closed, the nightstand lamps and some other indirect light burned, Michael rested on the bed in half-seated position. He bore a pyjamas top or house jacket, anyway red and black or so, striped. I made it, to move some steps further to him, so that I could at least lean my pockets with the paintings against the bedposts. Now I stood there again, SPEECHLESS. Okay, yes, I believe that I had said "Hello" on entering, but that was then it too. He looked at me with searching look, searching, yes, looked, neither friendly nor unfriendly. But I returned his look, always still silently. There he helped me out of the Bredouille when he raised the hands for the Indian greeting, what a relief, I answered him in the same way and with it I bowed deeply.

Now the ice was broken, after initial difficulties with the English language, introduction, my name, shall I call you Mr. Jackson or ..., Michael very dear: Say Michael, explanation how I came this way, London, art work book, you have chosen theses works, now I am here to deliver them ... blabla. The "Popmozart" painting was next to him on the double bed, you have already seen it. An explanation now what I want to express with it, to compare you with the genius Mozart on the field of Popmusic, said he, already more lively: Oh, thank you. I have still prattled something in this kind. He asked: Oil or acryl? Oil. Then: May I. show you the next one? Of course, which was with emphatic accentuation, that was already better. My heart made a small hop! Oh my God, I now still must the piece, considering 60 x 70 cm, unpack from the plastic bag and it was also wrapped in wrapping paper, rip-rip, paper on ground fling, with that I could wonderfully take a look on Michael's feet in white, ribbed socks and to his totally wore out Slippers, lol.

Done. Held the painting before the really well-shaped nose, although, how everyone knows very slim nose, nevertheless everything hunky-dory. And now I can't still believe it, he straightened up in the bed vertically and gave an enthusiastic "COOL". "Invincible" murmured Michael, so the painting is called, is showed, "Invincible - Michael in Knight's Armour", both paintings by the way to view on my art work page http://mitglied.lycos.de/popmozart. Curious and apparently through the emotion of his "employer" (?) encouraged, the ominous man, who was so far at the ground with the children, now also arise and further praises me: Great, wonderful! How long did you work on it? And I answered truthfully: Four months on both. Yes, one hardly can take it, but nothing at all could shake me in this moment.

While unwrapping fortunately my updated Art work books come back to me again, out with it, one is for you, and please give me on the other an autograph, of course. Michael whipped out his Edding and wrote elegantly straight out , paused and asked, what is your name, okay, I indeed already have said, but I think this time, I make it a little more easier and say, please WRITE simply DAGGI, he wrote, raised up the head and says Dawgi (so how with saw), no, Daggi, D a g g i, we have tried it two-, three times in phonetic language, he even placed the finger to the larynx with oh and with ah to the breastbone, in order to find out the correct sound (that was somehow good for a shooting, but so sweet that he has made to himself such trouble), but there was the little accident already happened, I saw it only later, Michael now renamed me in Dawwgi. Now it is written in such a way for all times on my Art Work Book: Love Michael Jackson to Dawwgi, sweet, isn't it?

So, actually the thing with my paintings, because of that I had received the audience, was finished. Now I would have still to get rid of my missions, but the situation was simply too intimate and delicate, that it was impossible to bother Michael with some complaints or wishes, which other ones had given to take it along, especially since Mike had first meant to me, only some minute, and those were for a long time surpassed, if I can still judge that at all; I already spoke of the loss of my senses.

I still just made it, with the words, these again now rather stuttered, to ask, whether I may unpack a couple of gifts, with it I could pin the video-cassette of Mirko with some explanatory words on him, and if I could these, my small presents, chocolates for the kids, a Praliné box in gold paper and with blue organza bow, especially for the Lady, who is caring for your children, onto the bedside table may put, oh yes, of course, thank you, that's so sweet, so sweet. He really said this all the time while I stacked the stuff there.

The moment of leave-taking now came for me. I had not even touched him and wanted just discreetly to sneak off, standing back with one or two steps without turning me round how one makes it with real kings, when something incredible happend, of that I had thought at all no more, he arose in an incomparable kind and manner, I already consider all the time, in which Video Clip or where I already always observed at him this movement, almost floating from resting place, in such a way I never have seen a human being stand up and ... embraced me. Now it happens to me. Tears dry.

This embracing was not fleeting but tender. Indescribably homely warm, I can't express it further in words, and he smelled as good as honey or honey cake I know differently not to describe it. And I thought, I would be taller than him, but we were almost cheek to cheek and I whispered: Michael, we love you, we never leave you.

You must be satisfied with it because it impossible to describe it, words are here to much. Then I left the room on normal way, namely grabbing my pockets, slipping the paper into the hands of the dear, good spirit Mike, turned my back on Michael and left the room while the delighting Kids called after me from a mouth: You're beautiful, you're wonderful, incredible, we love you so (a saying the fans continuously started to sing under Michael's hotel window), and I still got it done to their direction, ground, to make the Peace sign and call back, I love you too. With that the audience was brought to the end and I was in real life again.

The wonderful, polite Mike still thanked me, thank you, Dagmar. I do not know how I arrived again down below, anyway I went out of the hotel and saw into the faces of the waiting crowd, it was like a dream.