The BLTS Archive - Dreams
#1: Perchance to Dream
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

---

Archive: Those with previous permissions Yes! All others please ask
first.

Disclaimer: I don't own them. They were born in other creative minds,
but they keep intruding into mine, so what's a girl to do? I don't
make any money from this, tis but a labour fraught with love...theirs
and mine.

Spoilers: Shuttle Pod 1 - Mild

Authors Note: This bunny just won't leave me alone...or wouldn't. I am
hoping there will be more of this, but thought I might get the bunny
to work more if I posted this one (my bunnies hate to leave anything
unfinished). With thanks for Dream Symbolism to:
http://www.dreamloverinc.com

The title is inspired by Hamlet's Soliloquoy:

"To die--to sleep--
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to.
'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
To die--to sleep.
To sleep--perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub!"

Hamlet, Act III. Sc.I/William Shakespeare

---

//"What're you gonna do, kill me?"

"You're planning to kill yourself; what difference would it make?" He
raised the phaser pistol and tried to steady his shaking hand.

"Don't miss, cause if you do, the first thing I'm going to do if we
get out of this is bust your ass back down to crewman second class."

"Miss?" Malcolm shook his head and smiled. "I don't think so,
Commander." He slowly squeezed the trigger, watching as the bolt of
energy struck Commander Tucker in the side; the force of the blast
sending him reeling as blood sprayed from the wound.

He watched the commander's lifeless body fall from the ladder and land
in a crumpled heap at his feet.//


"No!" Malcolm woke with a start and sat up in bed. Shaking his head
slowly to clear away the remnants of the dream, Malcolm Reed swung his
feet over the side of the bed. He sat there for some time, rubbing at
his face as he tried to reassure himself it was just a dream; a
recurring dream which he lived through at least once every week since
the incident aboard Shuttle Pod 1.

With a heavy sigh, Malcolm got to his feet and made his way into the
bathroom to wash his face. He knew it was useless to try going back to
bed; he wouldn't be able to sleep anymore that night.

As he held his hands under the cool water in the bathroom, he couldn't
help noticing how they shook. The dreams always left him shaken and
unnerved. The thought that he could ever dream about harming a
crewmate was abhorrent to Malcolm. He would never do deliberate harm
to any of the Enterprise crew. He was sworn to protect them at any
cost.

True, he had pulled a phase pistol on Trip in the shuttlepod when the
commander climbed into the airlock, but it was not with any thought of
killing the man. Of all his crewmates, Trip was the one he was least
likely to hurt.

Malcolm frowned and then splashed the cool water onto his face; the
mild shock of it was enough to wake him completely, and wipe the
gruesome images of the nightmare out of his mind. He sighed and moved
into the other room. Setting the kettle on to boil he stood by the
counter and reached for a cup. A good strong cup of tea was just what
he needed to restore his nerves.

As he set a tea bag into the cup and reached for the sugar, his comms
panel beeped.

"Phlox to Lieutenant Reed," The doctor's voice came over the intercom.

"Reed here," Malcolm replied. "How did you know I'd be awake?"

"Oh just a feeling," the doctor said. "You've had a few disturbed
nights lately, I was working on the assumption it had occurred again."

Malcolm shook his head slightly and smiled. "Well, your hunch paid
off; what can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's more of a social call," Phlox said. "I wondered if
you'd like to join me for an early breakfast?"

Malcolm hesitated for a moment, half inclined to turn down the
invitation. He still felt somewhat rattled from the dream and wasn't
sure he wanted any company. With a small sigh he made up his mind that
it might be better than sitting around brooding in his own quarters
and thumbed the comm button. "I' ll meet you in the mess hall in ten
minutes," he said.

"Excellent!"

When the armoury officer arrived in the mess hall, Phlox was already
seated at a table and waved him over.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," The doctor beamed at him and waved to a
chair. "Sit.sit." he glanced at Malcolm. "I took the liberty of
fetching you some eggs, I thought you'd enjoy them."

"Thank you." Malcolm slipped into a seat and picked up a knife and
fork. "Eggs are just what I had in mind." He smiled at the doctor as
he began to eat.

Malcolm and Phlox had eaten breakfast together frequently since the
beginning of Enterprise's mission. The armoury officer found Phlox to
be a stimulating conversationalist, and he enjoyed listening to the
stories the doctor told of the various species he had studied in the
course of his medical career.

He took a mouthful of his breakfast and gave a small nod. "Delicious."

"Good!" Phlox picked up a spoon and began to eat. "So, another
disturbed night, hm?" he asked. "Are you sure you don't want to talk
about what is troubling your sleep?"

Malcolm frowned slightly and met the doctor's eyes. "Is this another
ploy to try and get me to talk?" His voice was edged with a note of
severity as he gazed at the Denobulan.

"Well, I am your doctor, you know," Phlox reminded him. "But if you
prefer not to talk that is fine; I really do enjoy our breakfast time
talks, so asking you to meet me was not entirely a ruse."

With a small nod, Malcolm continued to eat. He knew that the doctor's
motivation was concern and not nosiness, but he wasn't sure that he
wanted to air all the twisted scenarios his mind could come up with to
torment him. He preferred not to think of them when he was awake, and
certainly, when it came time for sleep he would much prefer that his
mind would allow him to rest.

"You know, talking about it may help." Phlox met his gaze as Malcolm
glanced up sharply.

"I am not sure I want to." Malcolm returned his gaze to his plate.

"Ah, but perhaps you need to," Phlox said, "sometimes talking these
things out can help to.lay the ghost as it were?"

Malcolm relented with a sigh. "I have dreams. Nightmares."

"Ah.care to talk about them?"

"You're obviously not going to leave me alone until I do." Malcolm
gave a small grin to take the sting out of his words and then glanced
around to make sure they were alone before he began. "I dream that I
am with Commander Tucker. Sometimes we're back aboard shuttlepod 1 -
when we thought Enterprise was destroyed; other times we're alone in
the armoury, or in engineering." He sighed. "But the end result is
always the same. Commander Tucker is dead.at my hands."

"I see. How do you kill him?" Phlox didn't seem shocked or upset by
the description of the dream.

"Usually, I shoot him.sometimes I use other methods. Always violent,"
Malcolm said. He looked into the doctor's eyes. "I don't harbour any
thoughts of harming Trip when I am awake. I...pulled a phase pistol on
him that day on the shuttlepod, but it was set to stun. I never had
any thought of killing him; I probably wouldn't have used the pistol
at all anyway.I just wanted to stop him."

"Of course," Phlox said. "Dreams rarely mean what they appear to mean
on face value. The subconscious deals in symbolism. I don't think your
dreams mean that you actually wish Commander Tucker any real harm."

Malcolm closed his eyes and nodded. "I just wish I knew what they are
about and how to stop them."

"Perhaps they are a means of dealing with unresolved issues," Phlox
suggested. "Anger.hostility. Traumatic experiences demand that we work
through them, you know, or they will come back to haunt us in some
way. Are you angry with the commander?"

"No.perhaps." Malcolm shook his head with a sigh. "I haven't really
thought about it."

"I have some data chips in sickbay that deal with symbolism in dreams;
perhaps you'd like to take a look at them sometime. It might help."

"Thank you." Malcolm's smile was genuine as he looked into Phlox's
sharp, blue eyes once more. "I may do that."

Their conversation turned to more mundane issues as the first of the
day shift began to trail into the mess hall for breakfast.

As Malcolm left the mess hall and prepared to face his day in the
Armoury, he reviewed the dream that had wakened him earlier. His
feelings in the dream were not anger exactly - more a sense of putting
an end to something.

Phlox had told him before they parted company that it was helpful to
note the feelings and the items in the dream that seemed most
important.

To his mind, the phase pistol, the blood, and the feeling that
something was finally resolved were important; also, the shooting or
killing itself in each dream seemed to stand out; and there was
something else. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness and loss when
Trip Tucker lay dead at his feet; that was the feeling he woke to
every time and it was the fear of experiencing that emotion again
which prevented him getting back to sleep.

---

"Dammit!" Malcolm Reed turned onto his back in bed and lay staring
into the darkness of his quarters. He let out his breath with an
exasperated sigh and sat up rubbing at his face. A glance at the small
clock by his bed told him it was 0400; again he had slept only a few
scant hours before nightmares wakened him. This one was different
though.


//He ran, crashing through the jungle as his breath rasped harshly in
his throat. He longed to stop; to rest, but knew if he did the one
pursuing him would catch him.

He looked over his shoulder, fear gripping at his heart as he heard
the heavy sounds of someone crashing through the undergrowth behind
him.

"Leave me alone! Go away!" His voice seemed odd to his own ears,
muffled and garbled as though he spoke through water.

"You tried to kill me!"

Malcolm turned his eyes to the path ahead just in time to see the
looming chasm; too late he tried to halt his headlong flight, but it
was to no avail. He tumbled into empty space.//


Malcolm sat up and left the bed. Reaching for his shirt, he pulled it
on as he made his way into the bathroom. He was tired and his mood was
becoming more edgy by the day. He knew he had to do something about
this situation before the lack of sleep drove him insane.

He decided that he would go to the sickbay and look at Phlox's data
chips that day since he was off duty. It was high time that he faced
up to whatever was troubling him. At least if he could find out what
the dreams meant it might stop them plaguing him.

He called into the sickbay after breakfast and found Phlox busy with
his usual never-ending experiments.

"Ahh! Lieutenant Reed," The doctor cried, greeting Malcolm as though
they hadn't eaten breakfast together only the previous morning.
"You've come to look at those data chips I take it?"

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind, I thought today would be a good time to do
it."

"Certainly." Phlox moved to a cabinet and took the chips out and then
turned to hand them to Malcolm. "There is a private room you can use,"
he said, showing the way to a small consulting room at the back of the
sickbay. "Take your time; I won't be needing the chips any time soon."
The doctor smiled, his faintly triangular grin splitting his face as
his blue eyes twinkled.

Malcolm nodded his thanks and moved into the room.

Inserting the first chip into a computer, Malcolm took a seat and
began to read the screen. He found it was a dictionary, which
described the possible meanings of various items. Malcolm began to
search for the items from the dream in which he shot Trip on board
Shuttle pod 1.

An hour later, the lieutenant shut down the dictionary frowning deeply
at his discoveries. He set both data chips aside, and got to his feet.
Making his way into the sickbay he found Doctor Phlox.

"Well, how did you go?"

"I don't think it was much help," Malcolm murmured. "I think I know
what the dreams mean, but - it doesn't really resolve anything."

"I see," Phlox said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Malcolm nodded. "I think that might help."

"All right," Phlox set down the data pad he was holding and moved back
through to the room Malcolm had come out of. He seated himself and
waited for Malcolm to speak.

"It's not really told me anything I didn't already know," Malcolm
said, indicating the computer console as he spoke. "The dreams I have
about killing Commander Tucker don't mean that I want to kill him in
reality. They are merely warning me that I need to restrain my temper
around him." He gave a wry smile. "I already know that."

Phlox nodded, "Indeed, the relationship between you two has often
been.volatile."

"Yes." Malcolm nodded his agreement. "The symbolism is fairly
indicative.guns speak of a need to protect myself.shooting speaks of
needing to keep my temper in check."

"Is there anything else?"

"Well, there was another dream.completely different," Malcolm said. "I
had it for the first time this morning."

"Go on."

"This time, I didn't kill Trip. I was - running away from him."
Malcolm moved to a chair and sat down. "He chased me through a jungle.
He kept yelling that I tried to kill him; at the end - I fell into
some kind of empty space. I." Malcolm stopped.

"Please keep going," Phlox urged.

"It was like - falling into - loss." Malcolm felt his heart begin to
pound as he recalled the sickening sense of loss that he'd felt in
those terrifying moments of free fall before he woke.

It was the same feeling he had when he killed Trip in the other
dreams. He looked up and met the doctor's eyes. "All of the dreams end
with that same feeling," he admitted. "Incredible, sickening loss."

---

It was back, the strangling, stifling loss. The grief and the
certainty of knowing something precious and living and needed was
gone.

Lost.

Malcolm closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus on the task at
hand. The force field was almost ready to use; he just had to keep his
mind on the job. This nightmare would soon be over, but there was no
time to waste.

And this was no nightmare. This was real. He'd seen it happen before
his terrified eyes. Watched as Captain Archer was seized and thrown
off his feet; seen him dragged across the cargo bay. Watched as Trip
dived after the captain, desperately grabbing the older man's hands.

Watched - heart pounding and breath harsh as the awful, wonderful
truth dawned - as the meaning of the nightmares became crystal clear.

"Get outta here!"

Malcolm couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot, staring at the man
who had filled his every sleeping moment for so many weeks. He stared,
horrified, as the slimy tendrils wrapped around Tucker's chest and
arms.

"Go!"

Malcolm shook his head, muttering as he pushed the horrific images
from his mind. He could not afford for anything to cloud his thinking
now. He had no time to examine his feelings. He made an adjustment to
the settings and activated the EM barrier. Glancing at the crewman who
assisted him, he nodded.

The crewman fired a phase pistol at the barrier, which held for a
moment before it flickered and allowed the energy beam to penetrate.
Malcolm shook his head and sighed in frustration as he deactivated the
field.

"The particle density's still fluctuating - I think the problem's in
the lower left quadrant."

"I've got it, sir." The crewman made a small adjustment to one of the
emitters.

"Try again," Malcolm said as he reactivated the field.

This time the barrier flickered, but it held. "Better." Malcolm
glanced at the crewman and was about to start another test when the
comm panel chirped and T'Pol called him.

Malcolm felt his heart sink as the Vulcan told him that there was not
much more time to complete his simulations. He stood for a moment,
staring at the emitters.

"Understood." He looked at the crewman. "We've got to get moving," he
said, once more pushing his feelings aside.

---

'I'm dying.' The thought echoed through the collective mind and was
gone.

"We're not gonna die here." Trip was not sure who had thought it. He
had been unable to identify individual voices for some time. They were
melding into one mind he could feel it. "We're not dyin'," he
repeated, his voice no longer carrying the edge of defiance it held
mere hours before.

'Not dying,' they thought. 'Not dying.' They took strength and
encouragement from it.

'Not exactly,' Trip closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift. He
was tired of fighting. Weary of trying to shield his mind - his soul -
from us.

Us.

It was no longer 'them;' not 'I' anymore. Them and I didn't exist.
'Us. The One.' There was a strange comfort in it. Trip sighed, let his
body go limp in the supporting web. "Cap'n."

There was no reply. It didn't matter. 'We are well. Sleep.'

Someone came. One of the single ones - Alone - it was wrong.  We
reached for him, we wanted to embrace him; we wanted to take away the
singleness. but we could not touch him. He stopped us when we tried.
He did not want to be one.

Others came. We watched, we saw them, but we could not touch. They
were separate, alien to us. We did not comprehend. We gathered
ourselves closer. We were afraid.

'Home!' The thought crashed through the consciousness causing the
whole to stir.

'They sang to us.'

We sang - The ancient song of origins. They heard it and they
understood.

'They will take us home!'

"We release you."

Trip heard the thought, but for a moment he didn't quite understand.
The concept of separateness didn't seem to register in his mind. He
felt the slow separation, a leaving almost a loss. 'Goodbye.'

---

"Commander Tucker's heart rate is increasing," Phlox said.

Malcolm glanced at him, keeping his feelings carefully concealed. "Is
that good or bad?"

"It's good!" Phlox met his eyes and nodded as a moment of
understanding passed between them. "Crewman Kelly's vital signs are
stabilizing as well."

Malcolm looked away, his eyes seeking Trip's form as the tendrils and
webbing slowly receded. He watched as the life form withdrew. Trip was
lowered gently to the deck as T'Pol ordered him to lower the
forcefield.

As the others moved forward, Malcolm stayed where he was. He saw Trip
stir, heard him groan, as the commander seemed to come out of a deep
sleep. With a sigh of relief, Malcolm turned to look at the crewman.

"Let's get these emitters back to the armoury," he said as he heard
Phlox call for a medical team.

He took one last look at Trip. Hoshi was with him, bent over him and
talking softly. He met hazy blue eyes for a moment as Trip glanced in
his direction. Malcolm smiled slightly and turned to remove the EM
emitters from the wall.

The sense of loss subsided. He could think again. The lieutenant
sighed as he walked out of the cargo bay with the emitters in his
hands. Trip was safe. He had saved the life of the one he had
repeatedly dreamed of killing. Perhaps now he could get some sleep.
Maybe, just maybe the ghosts Phlox had mentioned were finally laid to
rest. He now understood the meaning of the nightmares. He knew why he
had them, and what the sense of loss meant.

He knew and understood that his heart - subconscious, whatever it was
called, was trying to warn him that there was something precious he
stood to lose. The knowledge was cold comfort to him. Malcolm knew it
was impossible to lose something one didn't even possess. He smiled
wryly at the thought. He would never have Charles Tucker. It was
impossible. But if he could just get a good night's sleep, he would
settle for that.

---

The End