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He yawned again, loudly, and shrugged. He shook his head. The damned dreams. Maybe he’d see the ship’s doctor for a sedative.

Leonard McCoy was preparing a deposition; he was due in court in three hours, and had to be ready, because this was a big one. If he got this one, he’d make partner in the prestigious Atlanta law firm; he’d been told that by the old man, himself. It’d been a long time coming. He was ready, he thought, and had all his ducks in a row.

He went through the documents again, just to make sure he had everything he needed, and anything he might need, close at hand. Judge Bandy was a hard old cuss. McCoy sifted through the papers, paused, and yawned, his jaw cracking. He rubbed his eyes.

The dreams; they were starting to interfere with his everyday affairs. This had to stop. He yawned again and checked a few more documents, then placed them in his briefcase. He was as ready as he was going to be. He rose and moved to the door to go get something to eat, but saw the sofa by the window, and stood for a moment in silent indecision. At length, he set the alarm clock on the end table, and lay down for a brief nap.

"….I can’t explain it, Frank," Kirk said to the heavyset, mustached man across the desk, Frank Berger, the department psychologist. "They just keep coming; faces, things, places….some kind of…big spaceship. I’ve never even been to space. I just don’t understand where they’re coming from. There are a couple that are especially disturbing, but I have no idea why; one is about a vampire creature made of…some kind of fog, and another about a huge machine that looks like an elongated funnel, and eats…planets." He laughed a strange, high-pitched laugh, and shook his head.

"It’s weird, and it’s getting to me." He yawned cavernously. "See? I also keep getting this term…United Federation of Planets. And…" he paused, concentrating; "Star…Fleet….?" He shook his head. "I’ve never heard those terms in my life. What the hell could that mean?"

"Anything else?" Berger asked, trying to coax him into…something. At least to get him to talk some of it out; maybe he’d stumble onto something, some key word or thought.

Kirk nodded; "Sometimes I dream about wars; frightening dreams, something about people with genetic modifications….and a nuclear war; hundreds of millions dead. I know in the dream, somehow, that both were a long time ago. There’s never been a nuclear war; or a war over genetics. What can it all mean?"

Berger cocked his head and shrugged; "Well Jim, I mean, come on; dreams don’t necessarily ‘mean’ anything; some say they’re your subconscious mind’s way of processing the day’s events, emotions and thoughts, by relaxing and watching a movie. They can be the manifestation of any number of things; stress, interpersonal relationship issues, unhappiness with aspects of your personal life. It could be literally anything. How’s things on the job? At home?"

Kirk rose and moved around the office, hands in his pockets.

"Fine;" he said, "…well, nothing unusual; Jimmy’s been having some problems in school; my mother’s getting on in years, and has been a little sick, but that’s it."

Berger shook his head sympathetically, but said, "Well, I really don’t know what to tell you, Jim. If you have nothing to talk about to get it out, whatever ‘it’ may be, then there’s not much we can do here. Tell you what; I’ll call your doctor for you, and have him prescribe you something to help you sleep. How’s that?"

Kirk nodded, but was reluctant, and troubled. He’d never had to take medications to get a good night’s sleep, and didn’t want to start, but he was getting desperate. "I wasn’t going to mention this, but what the hell…I haven’t told Bonnie about this, but one dream in particular is very disturbing and I have it a lot." He bit his lip, and continued, "It’s about a woman named Edith; she’s very beautiful. In the dream, I’m…I’m very much in love with her, but…I know it can’t last. She’s…important, somehow." He shrugged. "I hear, but don’t see, her get run over by a.." he squinted, and shook his head a bit; "..an old vehicle of some kind….a truck. It was long, long ago;" he shook his head; "…during the Great Depression. I’m not able to stop it; in fact, I stop someone from stopping it." He grinned sadly, and shook his head again.

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