Dihiq
As the song picked up, so did the dancing accompanying it. A previously unseen crowd of sharply-dressed men, their faces obstructed to Dihiq by elegant hats, performed a small pattern of carefully coordinated footwork.
A step forward. A step back. Two steps to the left, a 180-degree turn.
A step forward. A step back. Two steps to the left, a 180-degree turn.
A step forward. A step back. Two steps to the left, a 180-degree turn.
A step forward. A step back. Two steps to the left, a 180-degree turn.
And so it went on for a few measures. Then, the music slowed down to an 18th-century waltz. From the mattresses emerged Judys, their pantsuits magically morphing into monochromatic, floor-length ball gowns. They waltzed, each with her own gentleman, whose ties magically transformed to match the dresses of their dancing partners.
They waltzed, and they laughed, and they moved all around Dihiq, seeming to float on the pool. The Klingon willed himself to drown.
The water seemed to fold, slowly letting him down, and then engulfing him. The water distorted his senses of sight and sound, turning the ball gowns into swirls of color, while the music turned stranger and druggier without losing the same overall melody.
Dihiq's surroundings gradually transformed into a psychedelic moonscape of sorts. Craters and hills in every color of the rainbow surrounded him, and his own body was covered by a suit whose color changed depending on which angle you looked at it from. Dihiq felt as though he was being dragged by his ridges, compelled to dance.
Dihiq moonwalked along some invisible path, stopping every few beats to turn around, moonwalk in reverse, and then turn again. He was immensely baffled, but he couldn't stop.
Soon enough, a string quartet appeared. Well, a psychedelic string quartet whose multicolored instruments sounded more like synths and loops, and whose members all looked like Judy. This was the source of the music.
Suddenly, in a burst of willpower, Dihiq charged at the quartet, intent to destroy it. He snatched a violin and broke it in twain, which failed to stop the music at all.
What it did seem to catalyze was the weirdest transformation yet. The four Judys' hair grew longer and longer, seemingly long enough to engulf Dihiq. Their heads moved closer together, transforming the four streams of hair into one. The hair slowly formed up a submersible craft, with one opening at its bow that seemed to suck in everything in sight. In came the craters, the hills, the instruments, the Judys, and finally... Dihiq himself.
For a moment, there was nothing. Only Dihiq, the door, and a strange man floating in nothingness. Then, all of a sudden, the nothingness transformed into a multicolored engine room, with four Judys (their hair separated from the hull) performing a tune.
"We all live in a yellow submarine; yellow submarine; yellow submarine," they sang in unison.
Around them, a long line of old men performed a series of rhythmic leg kicks as Dihiq was conveyed past them, each striking the Klingon as he passed by. The Klingon winced in pain every time, as he slid down the endless line, through the endless engine room, to the sound of the endless chorus.
"HELP! HELP!" he screamed, but he was powerless. "HELP!"
This led to a change of tune, but not a change in Dihiq's position.
"HELP!" he screamed.
"I need somebody," the Judys sang back.
"HELP!"
"Not just anybody."
"HELP!"
As the song continued, Dihiq just shrank and shrank.
The StrangerThis dream was a new kind of experience for him, and he watched everything. He heard it all; every note, every tap, every sweep of a kicking can-can leg. He watched the dreamer very carefully. In his experience, most dreamers had a threshold. A point when the logical parts of their minds took over, a point when they refuse and declare
'ENOUGH'. Sometimes he listened, sometimes he didn't, but he was learning that the inhabitants of the Starbase Columbus all had different breaking points.
This dreamer appeared to reach his, but while he had the power to stop his torture, he did not. He remained.
"HELP!"There was help to be had. The door remained. The chorus continued. This one would not be marked, this one was not suitable, but nevertheless The Stranger was enjoying himself.
[Aryn's Dream]
Aryn slowed as she approached the woman, a small part of her rational mind asserting itself. Slowly, the child Aryn morphed back into an adult, though still a confused one.
Who are you? Is my mother through that door? Will you let me go to her? Some part of her, that tiny rational part, was beginning to realize that this dream wasn't like her normal ones, or what had passed for normal without memories for her subconscious to draw on. She rarely had dreams with such identifiable people, even if the woman was someone she didn't recognize.
"Perhaps your mother is through this door, or perhaps she's right here." The strange woman on the seat smiled at the now grown-up Aryn.
"I will not stop you from going through the door. I cannot." A soft breeze blew through the corridor, causing the candlelight to flicker and for just a moment elongated the shadows that the woman's sharp features were casting on the walls. It gave an ominous darkness to her face, though her eyes remained bright and clear, almost luminous in the dark.
But the light coming from behind the door was lending a certain warmth, despite the chilly gust.
"Why don't you stay and visit with me for a while. We can chat about your dreams and your future."
[Alec's Dream]
Alec was also becoming aware that something wasn't right with this dream. Other than the part about looking for Aryn, the rest of this was like no other dream he'd ever had. The scoreboard was a big clue - there were names on it he recognized only from having worked in Sickbay for the last few weeks.
As he looked up, Alec caught the gaze of the giant eyes in the sky. Even when the downpour began, he kept his own eyes fixed on the malevolent gaze, blinking away the raindrops as they poured over his face.
Glaring, Alec folded his arms and responded to the spoken command, I don't think I will, actually.
Another stubborn dreamer.
The Stranger weighed this one. He may have begun his dream desperate and emotional, but it hadn't taken long for an obstinate logic to emerge and assert.
Another holo-projection began to materialise. There was much disturbance from the huge rain drops that were pelting down, but while the image had become slightly blurry, it was still possible to make out what it was showing.
Aryn, running. She was running through the very maze that Alec stood before, and she was running from two creatures. These creatures chased her on four powerful legs, large jaws snapping at her ankles as they pushed her forward, snarling, long lines of saliva and drool flying backwards from maws filled with sharp teeth.
"Enter."