Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Posted on Fri Dec 14th, 2012 @ 8:43pm by Lieutenant Commander Robin Swift M.D., PhD

Mission: The Struggle Within
Location: Robin's Quarters
Timeline: Current

* * * Deck 14 -- Lt. Cmdr. Swift’s Quarters -- 2000 hrs. * * *

It had been a fairly active day on the station for the counseling staff seeing those that had been involved with Cadet Conradi in some way, from other Cadets and instructors to friends that he’d made while on the station. Many would have thought that his ‘fame’ was from being the Chief of Security’s brother but it only took a few moments to realize that had Lt. Cmdr. Zeferino not been on the station at all, Cadet Conradi would still be as well-known and popular on his own. He had a winning personality and most everyone he met liked him from the start. But those were not the only people seen in the counseling offices this date. Some were for more mundane issues such as marriage counseling, those that had depression issues to work on and some just needing a pep-talk about how they thought they were doing with their jobs. And still others were being seen because of the current drama surrounding the disappearance of both Vice Admiral Wegener and Commander Hawke, most notably Lt. Hope Beckman who had insisted upon seeing Robin specifically.

Lt. Cmdr. Robin Swift’s duty shift ended at 1700 hours but he always made time to stop in at the Henry Gray Medical Station on deck 14 to lend a hand at the end of the day. While he was a counselor he was also a board certified physician. So he would see a few of the patients, if any, that had come to the level 2 medical station to help out the other doctors and nurses present. He enjoyed his duties immensely but always felt the need to help out with what was going on at the medical center just down from his own quarters.

Throughout the day, however, he’d felt a little off. Not exactly a medical term, per se, but one that many people would use as justification for seeing medical or counseling staff. He ignored it most of the day but eventually he had to take the time to try and figure it out. He found himself in his own quarters thinking about what he was feeling. The symptoms were mainly a bit of confusion, some headaches and fleeting moments of dizziness--but not dizziness that one would normally be accustomed to. It was almost as if he was having a moment of déjà vu that made him want to whip his head around as if he were on one of those old carnival rides he’d seen in Earth’s history, a tilt-a-whirl.

“Tea,” he said. “Tea always helps.” He pulled out the fine bone china tea set he purchased several years ago. It was white with pale green vines and had light heliotrope flowers at the ends of the vines. It wasn’t too bright or loud and was perfect for this situation.

Never having liked the tea that came from the replicators Robin tended to boil his own water and choose tea bags from his own stock. Much more fresh and relaxing when needed, which was exactly what was called for tonight. Thinking he wouldn’t get much rest from whatever was going on in his head, he opted for a special blend of tea that he mixed himself. It was a mix of chamomile, spearmint and valerian root, the first two being soothing leaves and the last a natural sedative to help him sleep. Despite being a physician, he tended not to medicate himself and opted for more natural remedies.

Once the tea was ready he sat in his biggest, most comfortable chair and listened to some soft music. It wasn’t long, however, before his eyes were closed and he was dozing away in the chair.

It wasn’t long till Robin’s dreams took him. He was back in his office, sitting in the same chair he favored. A pair of brown eyes appeared, hovering before him. They were so like Stephen’s eyes, but these were darker, their expression sad.

Was I imagining it all Counselor? The words weren’t spoken aloud but echoed in his head, bringing with them that sense of déjà vu again. As he watched, crystals of ice began to form around the eyes, slowly covering them over. I’m frozen....

“St--Stephen?” Robin called out, but there was no response. The eyes had gone dead and lifeless, frozen, still looking at him, almost calling out, but it was silent. Reaching out tentatively to touch them they fractured and broke apart with a thunderous crashing sound. He reacted by placing his hands over his ears but the sound penetrated no matter what he did.

“Where are you?” he called out. “Speak to me!”

A voice came now, speaking softly. “He’s not crazy you know.” The voice seemed to come from the table before him and there sat the clay likeness of Chance. The small head now had vivid blue eyes and the mouth was moving. It had spoken.

“Huh, that’s interesting,” Robin said to himself. “Who’s not crazy? Eli?” He took the time to lean forward to see the likeness of Chance more clearly. “I don’t think he is.”

“I’m worried.....” The voice faded and now it was replaced by a rougher voice coming from a cloaked figure standing in the shadows. “Help me,” It said. The voice ran along Robin’s spine like sandpaper. “I need him.....I’ll get him one way or another.”

Panic rose in Robin, resulting in him yelling. “You most certainly will not!” he said, thinking that the cloaked figure would attempt to harm Eli in some way. “He has done nothing to you. You will not harm him!”

He tried to stand from the chair but the soft cushions had turned to a gelatinous goo that grabbed him and kept him from getting up. He struggled, trying to get from the chair to the cloaked figure. He wanted to see his face. If he could see his face, maybe he could warn Eli, warn security, warn everybody!

The figure faded and for a moment, Robin was sure he could smell cigarette smoke. It was gone as quickly as it came and he jerked awake in the safety of his own living room.

He shivered a moment and looked around the room to determine if this was still a dream or if he were actually awake. He frowned when he looked down and saw that his teacup had fallen, the handle broken off and tea spilled on the carpet. Picking it up he stood and walked to the kitchen, placing the cup on the counter and gently touched his comm-badge.

“Swift to security.”

=^= Security, doctor. Go ahead.=^=

“Could you send an officer to my quarters? I’d like to speak to someone. It’s about Cadet Ziyad.”

=^= We’ll send someone right up, sir. Security out.=^=

He turned and looked at the chair that had trapped him. There was nothing amiss about it but he probably wouldn’t sit in it again for a while. Walking back to it with a towel he began dabbing at the spilled tea. His head jerked up. Was that a hint of cigarette smoke in the air?

*************

Lt. Commander Robin Swift, M.D., PhD
Chief Psychiatrist, and losing his own mind