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Dear Cubs fans: Celebrate. Call your parents. Repeat.

The Cubs won the World Series.

That actually happened, it happened in Wednesday’s waning hours. And as the sun rose the morning after the Cubs won the World Series, Chicago found itself in a state of disbelief.

“I didn’t dream that, right?” a woman asked a cashier at a Lincoln Park 7-Eleven in a slightly bewildered voice as she, like many others across the Chicago area, bought newspapers commemorating the occasion.

You see, the worst part about dreaming is that moment when you first wake up and the stark realization washes over you that none of it was real.

This was real, though, all of it.

The Chicago Cubs are World Series champions.

And it was worth the wait.

Wrigleyville didn’t burn the way just about everybody thought it would after the Cubs won.

Walking up Clark Street on Wednesday night and into the wee hours of Thursday morning felt like being in some sort of zombie apocalypse wherein everybody was walking around in some sort of jubilant daze, not entirely sure that what happened actually happened.

Everyone just wanted to be there, wanted to take a selfie with the marquee that was lit up with “World Series Champions” for the first time ever, wanted to give out high-fives and celebrate this championship with other fans.

This was a moment 108 years in the making, and for once, we were going to hit the pause button on life to take a moment to savor it.

The moments after the final out were chaotic, and I’ll forever remember where I was and who I was with—Galway Bay in Lakeview with an old friend I’ve known since I was a small-market TV reporter—but I’m not sure I’ll ever remember the final out itself.

That doesn’t matter.

What does matter is the fact that I and so many others stepped outside the bars once the hugs and high-fives subsided to call our parents.

What I will remember is stepping outside to call my dad, who has been bringing me to Wrigley since I was 5 years old. My dad and I are totally different people, but the Cubs have always brought us together. He brought me to my first Cubs game in 1987. I brought him to his first game in the bleachers three decades later. This was a moment I had to share with him.

“Hey, Dad? The Cubs won the World Series. The Cubs won the World Series!” I remember saying with tears streaming down my face with a steady stream of strangers high-fiving me as they made their way up Diversey toward Wrigleyville. “The Cubs actually won the World Series!”

I’m not entirely sure anyone in Chicago slept on Wednesday night, though that’s to be expected. I stopped by a Walgreens in Lakeview around 2 a.m. to buy a bottle of champagne, because that’s what one does when their wildest dreams’ wildest dreams come true. There was a line, an uncommon sight for the Lakeview Walgreens at 2 a.m. on a typical Thursday, but this was no typical Thursday.

The “Go, Cubs, go” chants carried on through the night, people wanting to stay awake and savor this, every single moment, because going to bed meant dreaming, and I’m not sure anyone could come up with a dream sweeter than the reality we just experienced.

This team, more so than any other team in my lifetime, has brought this city together in a way that has made Chicago a somehow more fun place to live. Throughout the past month, Cubs gear has been inescapable, from the “W” flags to the Cubs hats, shirts and jackets just about everyone has been wearing to work.

Rarely do the experiences we concoct in our minds live up to the hype we breathe into them, but this has.

This has been fun.

This has been more fun than I or anyone could ever have possibly imagined.

This was worth the wait. The Cubs won the World Series, and it happened in our lifetime.

Matt Lindner is a RedEye contributor. @mattlindner