Chapter Four: Dream On
~~
He felt as though he was floating on air as he walked into the sickbay, and that everything seemed to be slightly blurred around him, like he was looking through Clingfilm. It was a weird sensation, like déjà vu.
He had expected to see Gordon there, having his injuries looked at by Tin- Tin after his earlier feat. But instead, when he got there, he found Alan lying in the bed closest to the window. His face was pale, and he moaned as he slept. As Scott approached the bed, Alan began to struggle in his sleep, and the moaning became loader.
~~
Scott opened his eyes quickly, shifting them, looking around the shadowy room to find out what had caused him to awaken. Seeing nothing in his dark room that appeared to be the cause, he decided to venture from his cosy bed into the cool darkness of the house. He had heard something; he was sure of it.
As he tied his blue cotton robe around him, he remembered his dream, about Alan being in the sickroom. The dream had felt so real, so life-like. He was not sure, but his instincts told him to go towards Alan's room. He had a gut feeling, one that niggled and refused to leave him alone until he'd checked on Alan.
He tiptoed down the dark corridor, with the beams of moonlight shining through the windows playing across the carpet. As he neared Alan's room, he heard another loud groan. He quickened his pace until he came to the door.
Inside, he found his youngest brother to be in some kind of dreamless, restless sleep, tossing and turning wildly within his sheets. The quilt had been kicked to the floor. Scott hurried over, and put a hand to Alan's forehead, and found that it was burning hot.
'Alan,' Scott said, gently shaking him awake by the shoulder. 'Alan, wake up!'
Alan sat straight up, almost knocking Scott off of the bed. He was breathing sharply and rapidly, and his eyes were bloodshot. He stared at Scott, still rasping for breath.
'Alan, you're in a bad way,' Scott said, beginning to untangle the sheets from around his brother's body. 'Come on, let's get you to the sickroom.'
'What's wrong with me, Scott?' Alan said quietly, with a croaky throat. He felt panicked, as though he did not know where he was or what was going on, but Scott decided that this was probably due to the fever.
'Well, at a guess, I'd say you've got a case of flu,' Scott said, helping Alan to his feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'How are you, Alan?' Jeff said, perching on the edge of his son's bed in the sickroom. Gordon and Virgil had both just left, visiting their brother and receiving their inoculations at the same time. Scott was having his at that moment.
'A bit better,' he said hoarsely, before adding, 'Thanks to Scott.'
'Yes,' said Jeff, pondering this. One particular detail of the situation had been bothering him, and this had just reminded him what it was. 'Tell me, how did you find Alan last night, Scott?'
Scott shrugged, receiving a harsh look from Tin-Tin, who was trying to vaccinate him against the flu. 'I woke up when I heard him, tossing and turning in his bed. I guess I just followed the noise.' He had not mentioned to anyone about the dream he had had, about Alan being ill, because he was sure that everyone would think was going mad.
'Don't worry, son,' Jeff said to Alan. 'The medicine Brains has given you should soon take effect, and you'll be back on your feet in a week or two.'
'Two weeks?' Alan whined pathetically.
'I have another option. You can spend a few days getting over the initial stages, and then you can relieve John in Thunderbird Five a week early. How does that sound?'
Alan liked this choice better, as he could rest but still play a part in rescue situations. 'I'll do that,' he said, knowing that it was the best option.
'Good,' said Jeff brightly, alighting from the bed. 'For now, relax and get lots of rest. Grandma is preparing her famous chicken soup for you. She swears by it for curing colds and the flu.'
Alan yawned, still smiling drowsily. 'That's great, Dad, but I think I'll take a nap first.' He rolled over and closed his eyes, letting slumber begin the healing process.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scott sat on the soft sand, running the dry powder through his fingers slowly, thoughtfully. He was sat with his arms leaning on his knees, watching the tide creep in. Soon, he knew he would have to move, or risk getting his feet wet. He knew he could not spend much longer outside anyway, as the time was reaching five in the evening, and he would be required to help set up for dinner. Time nor tide waits for no man, he thought to himself.
He heard someone padding towards him, struggling through one particularly unstable area of the beach. A figure sat beside him, watching Scott for a moment. 'A penny for your thoughts?' Virgil's deep voice said softly, not wishing to spoil the tranquil setting.
Scott sighed, irritated at how well his brother knew him. But then, Virgil knew all his brothers well, and could tell exactly how they were feeling and what they were thinking. He opted to attempt to outsmart him. 'Well, I was just thinking, wondering how Alan got that flu. I mean, since none us have got it or had it for a long while. My only guess is that the young boy he performed CPR on had it, and so it was passed on that way.'
'Like you say, no good deed goes unpunished,' Virgil said.
'I say that?' Scott said, wondering if Virgil knew him better than he did.
'You were going to,' Virgil said, and then added, 'I also know that you were not thinking about how Alan got the flu.'
'How do you know?' Scott enquired sharply, immediately realising that he should have phrased the question better. Yes, his brother definitely knew him too well.
'Because you weren't,' Virgil said simply.
They sat in silence for a moment, Scott wondering what it would take to stop Virgil persisting. Remembering how stubborn his brother was, he gave in. 'You'd never believe me.'
'Try me.'
Scott took a moment to plan his approach. 'Do you remember, yesterday when Grandma won that sewing machine? How I was the last to come into the room?'
'Yes, I do,' Virgil replied slowly, his thoughts drifting back to the previous day. 'I came over to fill you in on what was going on.'
'Do you remember that I had a surprised look on my face when you told me?'
Virgil sat for a moment, thinking hard and trying to recall this event. 'Now that you mention it, I kind of remember that. Was there any reason why?'
Scott nodded, he too trying to evoke the memories. 'I had just woken up from a dream, and in this dream I dreamt that Grandma had won a sewing machine. I dreamed something, and it happened less than an hour later. Now how crazy does that sound?'
'I don't think it sounds crazy,' Virgil said honestly. 'I mean, a lot of people can have premonitions, sometimes when they're asleep, sometimes not.'
'There's more,' Scott said, removing his shoe to empty the sand that had collected inside it. 'I woke up when I heard Alan moaning in his sleep. The only reason I went straight to his room was because I had woken up from a dream about him being sick.'
Virgil took some time to digest the information. 'Scott, I can't see that these, well, your premonitions are necessarily a bad thing. I mean, you can see what's going to happen before it actually happens.' He grinned, adding, 'Your birthday's not far off...'
'Virgil, I hate this!' Scott snapped, taking a fistful of sand and throwing it angrily. 'It makes me feel like Alan getting sick is my fault, because it dreamed it before it happened.'
'It's not your fault, though,' Virgil said calmly. 'That happened yesterday, probably when Alan gave CPR. It was going to happen any way, and you dreaming about it later couldn't have prevented it. Think about it, Scott. I know that you woke up from the noise he was making, but because of the dream, you went straight to Alan, decreased the time between him getting the flu and receiving treatment, and so reduced the severity of the illness. These premonitions give you like a preview of what may happen, and so you know what to expect. Do you see what I mean?'
'I know, Virg, but I...' Scott trailed off, as he was not about to admit to his younger brother that he was scared, so he decided to rephrase his sentence. 'I just can't control it, and that's what I don't like.'
'Hey, I know,' Virgil replied, knowing how Scott really felt. 'It might go away, you know. Leave it for now and see what happens, and if you have another one, tell me and we'll go to Brains and see what he has to say.'
Scott agreed to the terms willingly, seeing them as both reasonable and fair. 'Okay then, I'll settle for that. One more premonition, and I'll take further action.'
'Come on, our dinner will be getting cold, and you know what Grandma will have to say about that. That is something worth being frightened about.' Virgil, knowing that he had taken a risk in saying that, hastily got to his feet and ran towards the house.
'Who said I was frightened about anything?' Scott said, getting up from the sand and chasing his brother up the beach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~
He felt as though he was floating on air as he walked into the sickbay, and that everything seemed to be slightly blurred around him, like he was looking through Clingfilm. It was a weird sensation, like déjà vu.
He had expected to see Gordon there, having his injuries looked at by Tin- Tin after his earlier feat. But instead, when he got there, he found Alan lying in the bed closest to the window. His face was pale, and he moaned as he slept. As Scott approached the bed, Alan began to struggle in his sleep, and the moaning became loader.
~~
Scott opened his eyes quickly, shifting them, looking around the shadowy room to find out what had caused him to awaken. Seeing nothing in his dark room that appeared to be the cause, he decided to venture from his cosy bed into the cool darkness of the house. He had heard something; he was sure of it.
As he tied his blue cotton robe around him, he remembered his dream, about Alan being in the sickroom. The dream had felt so real, so life-like. He was not sure, but his instincts told him to go towards Alan's room. He had a gut feeling, one that niggled and refused to leave him alone until he'd checked on Alan.
He tiptoed down the dark corridor, with the beams of moonlight shining through the windows playing across the carpet. As he neared Alan's room, he heard another loud groan. He quickened his pace until he came to the door.
Inside, he found his youngest brother to be in some kind of dreamless, restless sleep, tossing and turning wildly within his sheets. The quilt had been kicked to the floor. Scott hurried over, and put a hand to Alan's forehead, and found that it was burning hot.
'Alan,' Scott said, gently shaking him awake by the shoulder. 'Alan, wake up!'
Alan sat straight up, almost knocking Scott off of the bed. He was breathing sharply and rapidly, and his eyes were bloodshot. He stared at Scott, still rasping for breath.
'Alan, you're in a bad way,' Scott said, beginning to untangle the sheets from around his brother's body. 'Come on, let's get you to the sickroom.'
'What's wrong with me, Scott?' Alan said quietly, with a croaky throat. He felt panicked, as though he did not know where he was or what was going on, but Scott decided that this was probably due to the fever.
'Well, at a guess, I'd say you've got a case of flu,' Scott said, helping Alan to his feet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'How are you, Alan?' Jeff said, perching on the edge of his son's bed in the sickroom. Gordon and Virgil had both just left, visiting their brother and receiving their inoculations at the same time. Scott was having his at that moment.
'A bit better,' he said hoarsely, before adding, 'Thanks to Scott.'
'Yes,' said Jeff, pondering this. One particular detail of the situation had been bothering him, and this had just reminded him what it was. 'Tell me, how did you find Alan last night, Scott?'
Scott shrugged, receiving a harsh look from Tin-Tin, who was trying to vaccinate him against the flu. 'I woke up when I heard him, tossing and turning in his bed. I guess I just followed the noise.' He had not mentioned to anyone about the dream he had had, about Alan being ill, because he was sure that everyone would think was going mad.
'Don't worry, son,' Jeff said to Alan. 'The medicine Brains has given you should soon take effect, and you'll be back on your feet in a week or two.'
'Two weeks?' Alan whined pathetically.
'I have another option. You can spend a few days getting over the initial stages, and then you can relieve John in Thunderbird Five a week early. How does that sound?'
Alan liked this choice better, as he could rest but still play a part in rescue situations. 'I'll do that,' he said, knowing that it was the best option.
'Good,' said Jeff brightly, alighting from the bed. 'For now, relax and get lots of rest. Grandma is preparing her famous chicken soup for you. She swears by it for curing colds and the flu.'
Alan yawned, still smiling drowsily. 'That's great, Dad, but I think I'll take a nap first.' He rolled over and closed his eyes, letting slumber begin the healing process.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Scott sat on the soft sand, running the dry powder through his fingers slowly, thoughtfully. He was sat with his arms leaning on his knees, watching the tide creep in. Soon, he knew he would have to move, or risk getting his feet wet. He knew he could not spend much longer outside anyway, as the time was reaching five in the evening, and he would be required to help set up for dinner. Time nor tide waits for no man, he thought to himself.
He heard someone padding towards him, struggling through one particularly unstable area of the beach. A figure sat beside him, watching Scott for a moment. 'A penny for your thoughts?' Virgil's deep voice said softly, not wishing to spoil the tranquil setting.
Scott sighed, irritated at how well his brother knew him. But then, Virgil knew all his brothers well, and could tell exactly how they were feeling and what they were thinking. He opted to attempt to outsmart him. 'Well, I was just thinking, wondering how Alan got that flu. I mean, since none us have got it or had it for a long while. My only guess is that the young boy he performed CPR on had it, and so it was passed on that way.'
'Like you say, no good deed goes unpunished,' Virgil said.
'I say that?' Scott said, wondering if Virgil knew him better than he did.
'You were going to,' Virgil said, and then added, 'I also know that you were not thinking about how Alan got the flu.'
'How do you know?' Scott enquired sharply, immediately realising that he should have phrased the question better. Yes, his brother definitely knew him too well.
'Because you weren't,' Virgil said simply.
They sat in silence for a moment, Scott wondering what it would take to stop Virgil persisting. Remembering how stubborn his brother was, he gave in. 'You'd never believe me.'
'Try me.'
Scott took a moment to plan his approach. 'Do you remember, yesterday when Grandma won that sewing machine? How I was the last to come into the room?'
'Yes, I do,' Virgil replied slowly, his thoughts drifting back to the previous day. 'I came over to fill you in on what was going on.'
'Do you remember that I had a surprised look on my face when you told me?'
Virgil sat for a moment, thinking hard and trying to recall this event. 'Now that you mention it, I kind of remember that. Was there any reason why?'
Scott nodded, he too trying to evoke the memories. 'I had just woken up from a dream, and in this dream I dreamt that Grandma had won a sewing machine. I dreamed something, and it happened less than an hour later. Now how crazy does that sound?'
'I don't think it sounds crazy,' Virgil said honestly. 'I mean, a lot of people can have premonitions, sometimes when they're asleep, sometimes not.'
'There's more,' Scott said, removing his shoe to empty the sand that had collected inside it. 'I woke up when I heard Alan moaning in his sleep. The only reason I went straight to his room was because I had woken up from a dream about him being sick.'
Virgil took some time to digest the information. 'Scott, I can't see that these, well, your premonitions are necessarily a bad thing. I mean, you can see what's going to happen before it actually happens.' He grinned, adding, 'Your birthday's not far off...'
'Virgil, I hate this!' Scott snapped, taking a fistful of sand and throwing it angrily. 'It makes me feel like Alan getting sick is my fault, because it dreamed it before it happened.'
'It's not your fault, though,' Virgil said calmly. 'That happened yesterday, probably when Alan gave CPR. It was going to happen any way, and you dreaming about it later couldn't have prevented it. Think about it, Scott. I know that you woke up from the noise he was making, but because of the dream, you went straight to Alan, decreased the time between him getting the flu and receiving treatment, and so reduced the severity of the illness. These premonitions give you like a preview of what may happen, and so you know what to expect. Do you see what I mean?'
'I know, Virg, but I...' Scott trailed off, as he was not about to admit to his younger brother that he was scared, so he decided to rephrase his sentence. 'I just can't control it, and that's what I don't like.'
'Hey, I know,' Virgil replied, knowing how Scott really felt. 'It might go away, you know. Leave it for now and see what happens, and if you have another one, tell me and we'll go to Brains and see what he has to say.'
Scott agreed to the terms willingly, seeing them as both reasonable and fair. 'Okay then, I'll settle for that. One more premonition, and I'll take further action.'
'Come on, our dinner will be getting cold, and you know what Grandma will have to say about that. That is something worth being frightened about.' Virgil, knowing that he had taken a risk in saying that, hastily got to his feet and ran towards the house.
'Who said I was frightened about anything?' Scott said, getting up from the sand and chasing his brother up the beach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~