TITLE: Dear Annie ("Vanishing Point")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Vanishing Point."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: A tip of the hat to Sarah Gerber, whose post on the Linguistics Database made some of these points before I'd even started writing, and I stole from her shamelessly. Of course, the tremendous beta was by Captain Average, the superhero who punctuates.
DEDICATION: For Jess-Jess, as always, but especially because she was just here visiting and I miss her already. Just for her, there's a true story tucked in here.
* * * * *
Dear Annie:
Shoot me, please.
I'm not kidding. Please shoot me before I have to face my crewmates again--now that they've probably all heard about how Ensign Sato went nuts and thought aliens were trying to take over the ship.
I thought I was embarrassed after I screamed like a twelve-year-old on the Axanar ship, but that was *nothing* compared to how I feel now! Then, I could excuse myself based on inexperience, but I don't think that will wash a year later.
Now, I'm just a wimp.
I know by now you're glaring at the screen and muttering imprecations at me, so I'll stop babbling and try to explain what happened.
Trip and I were down on this abandoned planet doing a quick survey when a huge storm blew up. For some reason, we couldn't take the shuttle, something to do with the kind of storm. (I didn't pretend to understand the explanation.) So, what did they do? They used the transporter.
Well, as you could guess, I wasn't too thrilled with the whole idea of being broken down into my component molecules and reassembled on the other side, so I tried to talk the Captain out of it. No such luck.
Trip agreed to go first, and he materialized back on Enterprise. Then it was my turn, and all hell broke loose.
I won't burden you with the whole story, but I thought I was coming apart at the seams...cell walls...whatever. Murphy's Law hit with a vengeance, and suddenly I couldn't decipher a simple language, people were completely ignoring me, it was awful. Then I started to become see-through, finally completely disappeared, and everyone thought I was dead, although I could still see them. While I was trying to communicate with the crew, I saw these aliens rigging some kind of a bomb. In the end, I jumped onto an alien transporting device in a desperate attempt to follow them.
As you've undoubtedly guessed already, it was all a dream. I was trapped for eight seconds in the transporter's pattern buffer while Trip and Malcolm struggled to rematerialize me.
No! *Not* a dream, a *nightmare*, like every terrible nightmare you've ever had rolled into one. I stumbled off the transporter platform yelling about aliens and bombs and who-knows-what. Trip and Malcolm thought I was absolutely insane! It took a little while for me to realize that what I'd experienced hadn't actually happened, and that just a few seconds before, I'd been down on that planet with Trip.
I went to Sickbay to get checked out by Dr. Phlox, who assured me that it was perfectly normal, but somehow that didn't help (most likely because in my dream he assured me of the same thing). Then, Jon came by to try and make me feel better--which was nice of him--and that helped a bit, but not completely.
You know how it is when you wake up from a really bad nightmare, and it takes a long while to shake it? Even when you understand that none of it was real, you still feel shaky and upset, sort of twitchy, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I still feel like that, and I really don't want to go to sleep. I suppose that's why I'm writing to you instead...
I sure as heck don't need Starfleet Psychiatric to interpret the meaning of my dream: my subconscious is not noted for its subtlety.
One section featured performance anxiety: what if I can't decipher a language when people's lives are at stake? (And it was Trip and Travis--my two best friends onboard--whose lives I couldn't save.) My brain even threw in the Captain kicking me off the bridge for incompetence, just for that extra little touch of fun. Am I still that worried about my abilities?
Quite a bit of my dream had to do with feelings of invisibility, being ignored, not taken seriously. Gee, I've *never* felt like that, have I? (All sarcasm intentional, of course. And there's no need for you to comment on how you're reminded of the whole Eric situation. I've seen the connection.)
There was also some family anxiety in there, when I desperately tried to get Jon's attention while he was calling my Dad to tell him I was dead. Dad acted very oddly, irritable and unemotional, you'd barely have recognized him. This is one of the few parts of the dream that didn't have an obvious explanation. Perhaps I feel as if I'm so far away from my family that we're no longer emotionally connected? (No comments on Jon being a substitute Dad, because that couldn't be further from the truth. Jon is...let's just say he's nothing like my father and leave it at that.)
I even managed to fit in a piece of one of my usual nightmares about being late, very much like the ones I used to have in college about missing exams. (I still blush when I remember the time we really *did* almost miss our sociology exam because we both overslept. I'll never forget the sound of the door slamming open and Rachel yelling at the top of her lungs for us to wake up.)
And for that final oh-so-subtle touch, there was lots of Trip. Lots and lots and lots of Trip. I would imagine, partially, it's because he's the last person I talked to before I went into that infernal machine. *But*, whatever the reason, he was all over the dream/nightmare. First, he tried to reassure me that the transporter hadn't hurt me; then I saw him mourning my loss in a corridor. I still shiver at the memory of that. I didn't tell anyone about that part, it's just a bit too private.
Jon and I talked a little bit about the end of my dream--when he came to see me in Sickbay--and he thinks it's important that at the end I jumped onto the alien transporter in order to save the ship. I suppose he's right, but I wish I really believed that my decisions in the dream world necessarily translate to this world.
I mean, it's nice that he thinks I'm braver than I was a year ago, and that means a great deal to me, but does that really help? If I'd failed in my dream, I still would have woken up, but if I'd failed in speaking to the Axanar, the ship might have been destroyed. Do you see? There's no comparison.
This nightmare shows that I'm worried that I haven't really grown in the past year: deep down I'm still the nervous ensign who didn't want to go on away missions. Am I really valued by my crewmates? What if I let everyone down? How would people react if I died?
Honestly, the symbolism was so obvious, I'm a little embarrassed by the whole thing. Okay, I'm a *lot* embarrassed, but I feel better now that I've told you about it. But I know you, and I know that at this moment you're tapping your fingers on the desk, your eyes are narrowed, and you desperately want to say...
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
Love,
Hoshi
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Vanishing Point."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: A tip of the hat to Sarah Gerber, whose post on the Linguistics Database made some of these points before I'd even started writing, and I stole from her shamelessly. Of course, the tremendous beta was by Captain Average, the superhero who punctuates.
DEDICATION: For Jess-Jess, as always, but especially because she was just here visiting and I miss her already. Just for her, there's a true story tucked in here.
* * * * *
Dear Annie:
Shoot me, please.
I'm not kidding. Please shoot me before I have to face my crewmates again--now that they've probably all heard about how Ensign Sato went nuts and thought aliens were trying to take over the ship.
I thought I was embarrassed after I screamed like a twelve-year-old on the Axanar ship, but that was *nothing* compared to how I feel now! Then, I could excuse myself based on inexperience, but I don't think that will wash a year later.
Now, I'm just a wimp.
I know by now you're glaring at the screen and muttering imprecations at me, so I'll stop babbling and try to explain what happened.
Trip and I were down on this abandoned planet doing a quick survey when a huge storm blew up. For some reason, we couldn't take the shuttle, something to do with the kind of storm. (I didn't pretend to understand the explanation.) So, what did they do? They used the transporter.
Well, as you could guess, I wasn't too thrilled with the whole idea of being broken down into my component molecules and reassembled on the other side, so I tried to talk the Captain out of it. No such luck.
Trip agreed to go first, and he materialized back on Enterprise. Then it was my turn, and all hell broke loose.
I won't burden you with the whole story, but I thought I was coming apart at the seams...cell walls...whatever. Murphy's Law hit with a vengeance, and suddenly I couldn't decipher a simple language, people were completely ignoring me, it was awful. Then I started to become see-through, finally completely disappeared, and everyone thought I was dead, although I could still see them. While I was trying to communicate with the crew, I saw these aliens rigging some kind of a bomb. In the end, I jumped onto an alien transporting device in a desperate attempt to follow them.
As you've undoubtedly guessed already, it was all a dream. I was trapped for eight seconds in the transporter's pattern buffer while Trip and Malcolm struggled to rematerialize me.
No! *Not* a dream, a *nightmare*, like every terrible nightmare you've ever had rolled into one. I stumbled off the transporter platform yelling about aliens and bombs and who-knows-what. Trip and Malcolm thought I was absolutely insane! It took a little while for me to realize that what I'd experienced hadn't actually happened, and that just a few seconds before, I'd been down on that planet with Trip.
I went to Sickbay to get checked out by Dr. Phlox, who assured me that it was perfectly normal, but somehow that didn't help (most likely because in my dream he assured me of the same thing). Then, Jon came by to try and make me feel better--which was nice of him--and that helped a bit, but not completely.
You know how it is when you wake up from a really bad nightmare, and it takes a long while to shake it? Even when you understand that none of it was real, you still feel shaky and upset, sort of twitchy, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I still feel like that, and I really don't want to go to sleep. I suppose that's why I'm writing to you instead...
I sure as heck don't need Starfleet Psychiatric to interpret the meaning of my dream: my subconscious is not noted for its subtlety.
One section featured performance anxiety: what if I can't decipher a language when people's lives are at stake? (And it was Trip and Travis--my two best friends onboard--whose lives I couldn't save.) My brain even threw in the Captain kicking me off the bridge for incompetence, just for that extra little touch of fun. Am I still that worried about my abilities?
Quite a bit of my dream had to do with feelings of invisibility, being ignored, not taken seriously. Gee, I've *never* felt like that, have I? (All sarcasm intentional, of course. And there's no need for you to comment on how you're reminded of the whole Eric situation. I've seen the connection.)
There was also some family anxiety in there, when I desperately tried to get Jon's attention while he was calling my Dad to tell him I was dead. Dad acted very oddly, irritable and unemotional, you'd barely have recognized him. This is one of the few parts of the dream that didn't have an obvious explanation. Perhaps I feel as if I'm so far away from my family that we're no longer emotionally connected? (No comments on Jon being a substitute Dad, because that couldn't be further from the truth. Jon is...let's just say he's nothing like my father and leave it at that.)
I even managed to fit in a piece of one of my usual nightmares about being late, very much like the ones I used to have in college about missing exams. (I still blush when I remember the time we really *did* almost miss our sociology exam because we both overslept. I'll never forget the sound of the door slamming open and Rachel yelling at the top of her lungs for us to wake up.)
And for that final oh-so-subtle touch, there was lots of Trip. Lots and lots and lots of Trip. I would imagine, partially, it's because he's the last person I talked to before I went into that infernal machine. *But*, whatever the reason, he was all over the dream/nightmare. First, he tried to reassure me that the transporter hadn't hurt me; then I saw him mourning my loss in a corridor. I still shiver at the memory of that. I didn't tell anyone about that part, it's just a bit too private.
Jon and I talked a little bit about the end of my dream--when he came to see me in Sickbay--and he thinks it's important that at the end I jumped onto the alien transporter in order to save the ship. I suppose he's right, but I wish I really believed that my decisions in the dream world necessarily translate to this world.
I mean, it's nice that he thinks I'm braver than I was a year ago, and that means a great deal to me, but does that really help? If I'd failed in my dream, I still would have woken up, but if I'd failed in speaking to the Axanar, the ship might have been destroyed. Do you see? There's no comparison.
This nightmare shows that I'm worried that I haven't really grown in the past year: deep down I'm still the nervous ensign who didn't want to go on away missions. Am I really valued by my crewmates? What if I let everyone down? How would people react if I died?
Honestly, the symbolism was so obvious, I'm a little embarrassed by the whole thing. Okay, I'm a *lot* embarrassed, but I feel better now that I've told you about it. But I know you, and I know that at this moment you're tapping your fingers on the desk, your eyes are narrowed, and you desperately want to say...
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."
Love,
Hoshi