The summer of 2001 marked the dawn of something electric in the music world. The Dream Begins, the debut album of Gravity Dreams, had officially hit the shelves — and the impact was immediate.
From the first week, the energy surrounding the record felt different. The critics were intrigued, the fans were ecstatic, and Sony Music executives, who had initially seen the band as a promising but risky experiment, were now celebrating one of the most profitable signings of the decade.
By the end of its first week, the album had sold over 400,000 copies, debuting at #2 on the Billboard 200 — an extraordinary feat for a band with only a few live performances under their belt.
Within a month, the songs were being played across every major radio network in the U.S., from MTV's "Total Request Live" countdowns to underground rock stations in Chicago and Seattle.
The combination of raw emotion, melodic storytelling, and bold modern rock sound hit a nerve with a generation that was hungry for authenticity.
Sony poured fuel on the fire. Their marketing division launched a massive nationwide campaign — billboards in Times Square, promotional interviews across radio stations, and a mini-documentary aired on VH1 titled "Gravity Rising."
The band's story — led by the mysterious, confident frontman David Harper, backed by Tommy Pridgen's explosive drumming, Emily Spalding's soulful basslines, and Avril Lavigne's youthful, rebellious charm — became the new obsession of the early 2000s rock scene.
By July, the album's lead single, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams," had become the anthem of the summer. Its introspective tone and haunting melody made it irresistible. It topped radio requests and climbed to #1 on Billboard Hot 100, where it stayed for six consecutive weeks.
Critics from Rolling Stone praised its "anthemic resonance and emotional intelligence," while NME called it "the voice of a lost generation finding its sound."
Not far behind came "Mr. Brightside," a song that radiated with manic energy and heartbreak, debuting at #2, right below their own hit. The music video — filmed in a hazy, noir-style Los Angeles bar — became iconic overnight.
The imagery of David standing in the rain, singing through gritted teeth, captured the angst of an entire generation of young adults.
By August, "Kryptonite" and "Leave Out All The Rest" joined the ranks, sitting at #4 and #5 on Billboard's Top 10 respectively.
"Thanks for the Memories" followed close behind, reaching #7.
The charts were dominated by Gravity Dreams, with only a handful of competitors — notably Lifehouse's "Hanging by a Moment" at #6 and Linkin Park's "In the End" holding strong at #3.
Out of seven tracks, five were in the Billboard Top 10 simultaneously. It was an unheard-of achievement for a debut album from an unestablished band. The industry buzzed with disbelief. Critics speculated whether the band had caught lightning in a bottle or if they were witnessing the rise of something truly era-defining.
Even more astonishing was the performance of the other two tracks — "Skater Boy" and "Take Me for a Ride." The former, Avril's fiery duet with David, exploded on youth radio stations, quickly becoming a favorite among high school audiences. It peaked at #13, while "Take Me for a Ride," a roaring arena-style anthem, comfortably held the #15 position for three consecutive weeks.
By December 2001, the numbers were undeniable.
Total album sales: 3.8 million copies worldwide.
Projected year-end total: Over 5 million copies sold.
RIAA Certification: Platinum within three months, Double Platinum by Christmas.
Streaming (radio play & CD spins): Over 150 million total U.S. plays across FM stations.
Gravity Dreams had become the face of the "new millennium rock wave." Alongside Linkin Park, they redefined what modern rock could sound like — blending melancholy lyrics with soaring hooks and gritty guitar tones. MTV began airing their performances almost daily, and David's name was being whispered alongside rising icons like Chris Martin and Chester Bennington.
The band's live performances only amplified the phenomenon. Their summer tour—The Dream Begins Tour—sold out within days of announcement.
From New York's Hammerstein Ballroom to Los Angeles' Greek Theatre, venues were packed with screaming fans. Teenage girls carried handmade banners that read "Take Me for a Ride, David!" while older rock fans stood in awe of Tommy's drumming and Emily's commanding stage presence.
In one memorable stop in Chicago, a local newspaper wrote:
"They sound like the future of rock — part heartbreak, part rebellion, and entirely unforgettable."
Avril, barely seventeen, became an overnight sensation. Interviews poured in from teen magazines like Seventeen and Teen People, dubbing her the "next big voice of youth."
Her duet with David on Skater Boy became symbolic — the song of young love, missed chances, and unapologetic dreams.
She appeared on talk shows like The Tonight Show with Jay Leno and TRL, her Canadian accent and no-nonsense charm winning hearts everywhere.
But she was also asked if she wanted to go solo. Some labels wanted to leverage her connection and make her a solo star. She had that appeal. But Avril denied it, saying, "I want to focus on our next 2 albums that we are cojtracted to do. I'll consider anything else after that."
David, meanwhile, became something else entirely.
A mystery.
He was the frontman everyone wanted to know, effortlessly charismatic, confident without arrogance, and smart in interviews. Journalists couldn't decide whether he was a genius, a manipulator, or simply lucky.
His ability to write and perform songs with emotional depth made him a magnet for attention. Magazines like Rolling Stone and Billboard featured him on their covers, calling him "The Mind Behind the Magic."
But with success came chaos.
The sudden fame brought countless cameras to his doorstep, reporters to his shows, and speculation to every corner of his life.
Paparazzi followed him and Scarlett everywhere, snapping pictures of them at restaurants, beaches, and even grocery stores.
Scarlett, who was filming Lost in Translation and Girl with a Pearl Earring, handled the pressure with grace, though the headlines often twisted their relationship into sensational stories.
"Gravity Dreams Frontman and Aspiring Hollywood Starlet: Rock's New Power Couple?"
"Is Scarlett the Muse Behind The Dream Begins?"
"Is this true romance or chasing clouts?"
David laughed most of it off, but behind closed doors, he found the attention suffocating. He missed the quiet mornings when he could write undisturbed, the days when only the music mattered.
He also took time to spend it with Scarlett. Although she didn't show it, the negative rumors were affecting her. He comforted her and told her to just focus on her acting. She can shut them up when she's successful.
She was quite thankful , and expressed her gratitude by keeping him awake all night. (😏)
Meanwhile, Harvey had his hands full.
"You're getting too popular for your own good," he told David over coffee one morning. "The vultures smell blood. Expect more tabloid crap."
David patted his shoulder. "They will come either way. If you don't have haters, you're doing something boring."
Harvey raised his mug. " I'm gonna use that line from now on."
Sure enough, the tabloids soon obliged.
One published an absurd story claiming David was feuding with Linkin Park's Chester Bennington, something both men denied and later laughed about over drinks.
Another tabloid insinuated that David's lyrics were ghostwritten, citing "industry sources," which Harvey immediately shut down with a legal threat.
But the biggest irritation came from the paparazzi who started camping near his Hollywood home. Scarlett had to sneak out through the back entrance some mornings just to get to her film sets.
The once peaceful coastal house had turned into a circus of flashbulbs and invasive questions.
Still, David tried to stay grounded. He split his time between studio sessions, meetings about Marvel and Amazon's restructuring, and Gravity Dreams' touring schedule. He refused to let fame pull him off balance.
"We haven't even earned the legend status yet," he joked to Tommy one night after a show. "We're still just the guys trying not to mess up the next chorus."
By mid-December, The Dream Begins was being hailed as one of the best debut albums in modern rock history.
Rolling Stone's year-end issue listed it among the Top 10 Albums of 2001, calling it:
"A masterclass in emotional range — seven songs that move from vulnerability to triumph without losing authenticity."
Even Billboard analysts were stunned at how quickly the numbers kept climbing.
By Christmas Eve, the album's global sales crossed 4.7 million copies,only falling behind the album of The Beatles released earlier that year, and radio airplay continued to dominate across North America and Europe.
For David, though, the recognition wasn't just numbers, it was validation. Every sleepless night, every doubt, every chord he'd second-guessed suddenly made sense. He had built something real — not luck, not hype, but music that spoke to people.
On December 27th, the band celebrated with a quiet dinner at David's home. Scarlett sat beside him, wearing a soft smile, her hand brushing his under the table.
Tommy and Emily were laughing about the chaos of their first tour, while Avril scrolled through fan comments online, showing David memes made about their lyrics.
"'Mr. Brightside' has a remix with cat meows," she announced between giggles.
David smirked. "Guess we've officially made it."
Laughter filled the room, echoing through the house that overlooked the Pacific. Outside, the waves broke against the shore — steady, rhythmic, eternal.
But beneath the joy, there was a flicker of something uneasy. Fame had opened doors, yes, but it had also invited shadows from the past.
And one morning, as sunlight spilled across the Malibu coastline, that shadow took form.
David opened the door, still half-asleep, coffee in hand, and froze.
Standing there, dressed sharply as if the years had never passed, was Evelyn Harper. His mother. The woman who had been nothing but a bad influence in his memory.
Her smile was rehearsed, her eyes sharp.
"Hello, David," she spoke with her usual smirk. "Aren't you going to invite your mother in?"
David's grip on the coffee cup tightened. The warmth he'd felt moments ago turned cold.
The dream had begun, but so had something darker.