OOOOO
A.N. I don't own anything to do with Star Trek, though in fairness, I have had dreams . . . don't own any other published author either . . . or any unpublished, except myself . . .
OOOOO
A Dream Within A Dream
(Reference: 'A Dream Within A Dream' – Edgar Allan Poe – second stanza
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand –
How few! Yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep – while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?')
OOOOO
Part of Lieutenant Malcolm Reed's mind had decided in a peculiar way that Trip and he had must have made love the previous evening, or at least the last time they were in bed together. The unusual part was that it felt like the memory was wrapped in cotton wool – that for some reason he couldn't actually remember the touch of Trip's hands upon his body . . . the caress of lips upon his face. He did remember saying, "I love you," just before he fell asleep. Would have to remedy that the next time they made love.
'No wait . . . it was by happenstance that I was in the Armory', he managed to think, 'when the Bridge was destroyed . . .' Un-spoken, and mostly un-thought, Malcolm knew that Engineering was gone too; and that he had set the remaining ordnance to auto-destruct after the Xindi had boarded the ship. And with the remaining sensors he saw that they were approaching the detonation point . . .
He had disabled the blast shields in the area; the full force of the weapons would rake any vessel within reach. A pity that it wouldn't save Earth – 'But one can only do what one can do.' A last moment of regret . . .
OOOOO
Malcolm Reed stood at the edge of a great ocean . . . he felt the warmth of the sun, and saw the fluffy white clouds float with deliberate motion across the sky. The waves crashed with predictable motion – 'This is lovely,' he realized, and let his eyes drift down the beach . . .
With pleasure he saw the approach of a familiar face, noted the outrageous hues of his love's shirt – 'Were there even colors in the known universe to encompass that?' Felt the caress of the wind against his face, then the so-solid brush of skin and the remembered smell, taste . . . and finally to hear, "Darlin', I've missed you."
Then Malcolm thought or even mayhap actually said, "If this be a dream then I don't want to wake up . . ." Perhaps life and death are but a dream within a dream. One can only hope. One can only hope.
OOOOO