The Dream and The Dreamer

 

 

 

Ok, it is time for my inner geek to come out. Today is the 20th Anniversary of Deep Space Nine. I am forever a Trekkie. I love all things that have to do with Star Trek... except for that last abomination of a movie. That being said, DS9 is my favorite out of all the series. There was something about the crew of the space station that struck a familiar chord with me. Every week I would tune in and laugh, cry, celebrate in their triumphs and dispair at their losses.

 

One of my favorite story lines was the alternative reality of Benny Russel. Benny was a sci fi author, living in the 1950's. It was a time when the thought of a black man ever being the captain of a space station was... inconceivable. Yet Benny conceived it and submitted the story to his magazine. They liked it... as long as he made the captain white. Benny refused. Not only that, but he began having visions of Captain Sisco and came to believe that there was a reality where Captain Sisko and his crew existed.

 

He was beaten by some cops... who strangely resembled Dukat and Weyoun. Eventually he was institutionalized. Dr. Wycoff tried to convince him that his dreams were a delusion but Benny refused to believe him, eventually realizing that he was in fact Captain Sisko and that it was the Pah Wraith that were altering his reality.

 

The Dream and The Dreamer

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

 

Stepping into the sterile room, Dr. Wycoff stood still for a moment and studied his patient. The man was furiously scribbling on the wall. Nearly every square space had been taken up, but still he continued, creating a world only he saw. The doctor cleared his throat and then spoke. "Good morning Benny."

Benny barely glanced up from his work, acknowledging him with a simple, "Doctor." 

His baritone voice made the doctor smile. It reminded him of his father, although the dark skinned man was nothing like the man that had raised him. Placing his clipboard under his arm, he asked, "How's the writing coming along?"

Benny didn’t answer. Instead he studied his latest scribbles, a frown on his face.

"I see you've been at it all night again. Your pencil is worn down to almost nothing."

Benny’s voice held a mixture of sorrow and anger when he spoke. "She's dead."

"Who's dead?"

"Dax. Dukat killed her." 

Dr. Wycoff sighed. He kept hoping they would get past Benny’s delusions. This was a new turn though. Dax, though a figment of Benny’s imagination, had been a significant part of the delusion. She was both his mentor and friend… at least in the world he’d invented. Deciding to explore this turn of events, possibly a breakthrough in Benny’s treatment, he said, "I thought he was in a Federation institution."

"They released him… he was being transported to a prison and he escaped."

"And he killed Dax?"

"Yes, well with the help of the Pah Wraiths."

"Who?"

"Demon Prophets,” Benny explained.

"Hmmm, interesting. I thought the Prophets were supposed to be good." This was one of Benny’s delusions, that the Prophets were watching over a particular set of people and that Benny had been chosen to be their Emissary. What’s more, he believed he was a Captain of a space station that stood guard over the home of these prophets.

"Most of them are good,” Benny said. “Not the Pah Wraiths."

"Interesting. Do you want to talk about Dax? What do you call her, Old man? Unusual name for a woman."

"Jadzia was an unusual woman."

"Perhaps this killing represents a breakthrough in your treatment. Perhaps you're ready to talk about reality."

"DS9 is reality,” Benny snapped. “ It is real."

"Because you wrote it?"

"Because I saw it. I saw the future. It is coming. It is real!" Benny was beginning to become agitated. Sr. Wycoff held up his hands, trying to soothe him. Benny always became upset when he tried to tear down the walls he’d built.

"Benny, calm down or we'll have to sedate you again."

"You can't sedate the future." Benny’s eyes flashed with righteous anger.

"This isn't the future Benny. This is the present. The 1950's. You're Benny Rustle, not some future captain on a space station."

"I am both,” Benny insisted, gripping his pencil. “The Prophets told me so. I am the dream and the dreamer! I write the dream and the dream becomes reality! Captain Sisko exists in here and out there!"

"Benny, what are you doing? Put it down. Put down the pencil." Dr. Wycoff pressed a button, summoning assistance."

The door opened and several large orderlies came into the room, surrounding the patient. Benny struggled, managing to punch one of the men in the jaw before being gripped on both sides. One of the orderlies pulled a needle from his pocket.

"Keep your Cardassian men away from me,” Benny yelled, fighting to get free of their grip. His eyes widened when he looked at Dr. Wycoff. “I know who you are. You're not a doctor! You are Dumar! Dukat put you up to this.  I see it now!”

“You need to rest a bit, Benny. I will be back to check on you tomorrow.”

 “You're nothing but his puppet, you know.  Dumar! You are nothing but Dukat’s puppet!" The sedative was beginning to take effect and Benny sagged against one of the orderlies. Dragging him to his cot, they eased him down onto the mattress.

"Well, he should sleep now,” the doctor said. “ Maybe he'll be more compliant when he wakes up."

"How long do you think we can keep this up sir?” One orderly asked. “He recognized you, even under the human implants."

"Until we convince him it's only a dream."

The two of them looked at Benny while he slept. His eyes moved beneath the lids as he dreamed. “What do you think is going on in his mind?”

***

Captain Sisko stared at the young woman standing before him. There was something familiar about her.

"Hello, Ben. It's me... Dax." 

Happy Birthday DS9! You are a wonderful dream.

 

Holographic Adventure

Written for #MondayMixer. The words to be used are:

 

Locations: 1) aerie 2) stadium 3) embassy
Things: 1) opera 2) bathyscaphe 3) halberd
Adjectives: 1) vacuous 2) stentorian 3) acerbic

I used all 9. Wasn't going to until someone... we all know who...laughed and said, "Can't work them all in, can you?" Just for that I had to go an extra step...

 

 

Holographic Adventure

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

 

Looking up at the Terradactyl like creature, Quark gripped the halberd he’d chosen for his weapon as the Klingon bird screeched its disapproval. Inside the aerie a faint voice could be heard calling for help. 

“Can’t we just turn off the program; maybe go back to Sisco’s baseball stadium?”

“That would not be sporting.” Worf’s stentorian voice boomed his disapproval.

“How about a Klingon opera?”

“Leave it to you, Quark, to take the easy way out.” 

Odo’s  acerbic words stung.  Sometimes a Ferengi had to stand on principle. Rising to his full height of 5’6’’ he stared into the shapeshifters eyes.

“I have followed every vacuous rule of Bashir’s spy program, including fighting my way through a Cardassian Embassy and climbing into that dusty bathscaphe…  20,000 leagues under the sea, my lobes still have not recovered… but if that hew-man is so smart, let him rescue himself.  I’ve had enough.   

Word Count: 150

Alien Convention

Written for #ThursThreads

Alien Convention

By Lisa McCourt Hollar

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Thinking he had stepped into some weird version of The Twilight Zone Johnny Walker surveyed the room. Red, the color of crimson was splattered across the walls, mixed with a rainbow of green, blue and orange.

“I told you, they take this seriously.” Sean Franco shook his head, trying not to chuckle at his partners dazed look. It was his first year in town.

Before him, an alien with a large lobed head and sharp teeth sputtered indignantly.

“I want them arrested! This is NEVER going to come clean.” He gestured to his suit, an already gaudy color that even the most hardened pimp wouldn’t be caught dead in. A large collar rose up in the back, covering the back of his bald head. Johnny assumed he was referring to the red paintball splotches that  were soaking into the fabric. Behind him a bevy of women, dressed in costumes befitting Star Trek characters, giggled.

“You should thank me, Ferengi. I improved the look.” The woman leering down at the offended ‘Ferengi’, pointed a paint ball gun at him, shoving it into his chest.

“Did you see that officers, she threatened me.”

“Threatened you?” The woman laughed. “Ferengi, wait until tonight. You’ll see what threatened is.”

“Let’s go,” Sean said, turning towards the brothel door.

“Aren’t we going to arrest her? She did threaten him…I think.”

“Foreplay,” Sean said. “Get used to it. You should see Vegas when the Beany Baby convention comes to town.”

Word Count: 250

@jezri1

Me, Shatner and the P B & J

A few years ago I had a dream where I met William Shatner. Yes, I said William Shatner. I am a huge …huge Trekkie, (not Trekker, makes it sound like I’m a trucker and besides, Gene Roddenberry coined the term and who am I to argue with the creator of one of the best shows ever,) and some of my fondest memories involve the original series. 

When I was younger, there wasn’t a family holiday that went by that didn’t have my cousin and me sitting on the floor in my grandmother’s living room, watching Kirk get his shirt ripped off as he battled a Gorn or some other strange alien. I loved it and when my cousin passed away in a tragic accident I found myself looking to star trek to try and reconnect those memories. Over the years other series have come and gone, The Next Generation, which I watched reluctantly, late at night as my first born, kept me awake. I grew to love it and then along came DS9, my all-time favorite. It is the first and only series that reminds me of the friendships forged in that first series with Jim, Bones, Spock and Scotty.

The following story is based on my dream.

Me, Shatner and the P B & J

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

Tanya looked up as the bell over the door rang, indicating that a new customer had entered. She was standing next to the register, working on an inventory sheet and was ready for a distraction. These numbers had her eyes crossing. She looked at the man that walked into the store and blinked. Her eyes really must be wacky, because it looked to her like James T. Kirk had just walked through the door. She opened them and looked again. He was still there, Captain Kirk, older than he’d been when she watched him on her grandmother’s television screen, but still Captain Kirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he contemplated the unknown.

“Of course he really isn’t James T. Kirk,” Tanya chided herself, “any more than he was T.J. Hooker or Denny Crane, asshole lawyer. He’s William Shatner, an actor and another person, just like yourself. Remember that when he speaks to you.”

“Excuse me,” William Shatner said, “but do you have…”

“Oh my God, you’re William Shatner,” Tanya squealed, forgetting her reminder that he was just another person and not a demi god.

“Yes I am,” he answered, a patient smile flickering briefly across his face. “I was wondering if perhaps you might have a phone…”

“Can I have your autograph,” Tanya asked, her eyes searching franticly for a piece of paper her idol could scrawl his signature across. Maybe he would sign it To Tanya, my favorite fan, or To Tanya, the most beautiful woman I’ve had the fortune to meet. Her eyes fell on the inventory paper and she snatched it off the counter and thrust it at William…could she think of him as William, her eyes pleading with him to sign his moniker on the yellow form paper.

The light went out of his eyes and Tanya had a brief impression of him as James T. Kirk as he faced Kahn, anger seething just behind them as he prepared to face down an enemy. “I am not going to give you my autograph,” he said, speaking the words slowly so that she would understand. “I just came in to see if I could use your phone. My car broke down and there is no signal for me to use my cell.” 

Tanya stared at the actor, not comprehending what he meant. She pushed the paper at him again, pleading, “Please.”

“I told you, no. Why should I give you my autograph? You’ll just sell it. If anyone is going to make money off of my signature, it should be me. Now may I use your damn phone?”

Tanya thrust the paper at him again. Shatner sighed. Looking around the rustic store he spotted a loaf of bread and some Goobers peanut butter and jelly. Crossing the store to the counter he searched through a drawer and found a knife that would serve his purpose. To Tanya’s bewilderment, William Shatner pulled out two slices of bread and began slathering P. B and J all over them. Then, slapping the two pieces of bread together, he handed the sandwich to Tanya and said, “There, try selling that.”

Spying the phone, the frustrated actor lifted the receiver and made a call. When he was done he left the store, the tiny bell over the door jingling on his way out. Tanya stood there, dumbfounded, staring at the sandwich in her hand. Then she too lifted the phone and dialed.

“Steph,” she said into the phone, “You are never going to believe who was just made me lunch!”

The End

I seriously had that dream, where William Shatner wouldn’t give me his autograph but instead made me a P B & J sandwich. I don’t always remember my dreams in detail, often they fade shortly after I open my eyes, but this one has stuck with me over the years. Perhaps there is something to it. Maybe one day I will meet the legendary James T. Kirk and have a chance to sit down and discuss Star Trek with him over a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. If that is the case, then I wonder…strawberry or grape?

Copyright© 2011 Lisa McCourt Hollar. All rights reserved.