Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-02 11:53 pm
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-02 11:53 pm
Entry tags:
M*A*S*H | Sweet Dreams, Sidney | PG | Gen
Title: Sweet Dreams, Sidney
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: PG
Pairing: None.
Summary: “The subconscious is where our deepest, darkest thoughts, fears, and feelings are stored.”
Word Count: 987
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Has been slightly edited from its original version. Originally written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hashbash, a M*A*S*H fiction contest.
Doctor Sidney Freedman sits in the V.I.P tent of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit, at the desk. In his hand is a pen and on the desk, open to a fresh page, is his journal. He chews on the end of his pen for a moment, lost in thought, before beginning to write.
The entry title reads, “My dreams.”
A man sits in his home, at peace. He’s sitting in his favorite chair reading the day’s newspaper and drinking a mug of coffee—he’s content.
Very suddenly, the ground begins to shake and rumble, as if an earthquake has just struck. The house begins to crumble, and yet the man does not move. He looks around wildly, now horror stricken, as everything he knows turns to rubble. Feeling out of control, he drops to his knees, his fingers rubbing at his temples.
Dreams are symbolic, Sidney knows. They’re often trying to tell us something important, something we need to know or deal with. Oftentimes, unfortunately, these subconscious warnings or messages go unheeded, as we dismiss them as an overactive imagination or the result of stress and working too hard. They have to be deciphered—something not many of us have the knowledge or patience to do. So many times the issues our dreams bring to light go unresolved.
Sidney is committed to not letting this happen to him. He continues writing.
The man is sitting in a bright room, alone. After a minute, a nurse brings another man into the room. He’s tall, thin, has black hair and an accusing expression on his face. He’s in a straitjacket.
The first man opens his mouth to speak, to help, but no sound comes out. The longer he tries to talk, the more visibly angry the other man becomes. Finally, he stands up and heads toward the man in the straitjacket, to comfort him, but he finds that he cannot reach him - the room is divided by glass. He pounds on the glass—he’s got to save him!
Nothing works. He watches sadly as another nurse comes in and takes the other man away, but not before he mouths, “Why didn’t you help me?”
All the man can do is sit down, dejected, and think, ‘I tried.’
Sighing, Sidney sets down his pen. He knows that this is important. The subconscious is where our deepest, darkest thoughts, fears, and feelings are stored. These are emotions so intense that we don’t want to admit them to anyone, not even ourselves. Sidney knows that the only time they ever come out is at night, when we sleep. Then, and only then, as the conscious mind rests, and with it, the insecurities and the inhibitions, can thoughts so secretive they have to be encoded show up. They play themselves out in our minds, giving us what we call dreams.
Some dreams are nice, fluffy, and happy. Some dreams are silly or strange. Some come from the deepest corners of our minds and are terrifying—these are called nightmares. Everybody has them, nobody likes them, and they’re always there, warning us, of something. Sidney knows that nightmares are necessary.
Picking up his pen again, he wishes they weren’t.
The man is sitting in an office, looking over a file, when there is a knock at the door. He says quietly, “Come in,” but no one enters. He repeats his statement, this time a little louder, but still, there is no one. Shrugging it off as his imagination, he continues reading.
The knocking comes again. This time, the man gets up and head to the door. Opening it reveals one of his former patients, who is wearing a uniform proclaiming ‘Patient No. 34898' on his chest. The man looks at him, confused, but the patient simply walks in, and the man realizes that there is a line of people behind him, all following him into the office. The line is long, and there must be hundreds of people all trying to enter. Very quickly, his office is crammed with so many people there's barely any room to move. This is when he notices that he once treated each and every one of these people.
Wondering what’s going on, he asks. Everyone points to the window. Clearly confused, the man makes his way over to the window to have a look. Outside his office he sees a sign that proudly says, ‘Dr. Freedman’s Clinic for the Mentally Unstable.’
Shocked and horrified, he turns back to the crowd. “No,” he says. “I helped all of you. You’re all fine.”
“No we’re not,” says one of them.
“We’re all insane,” adds another.
“All because of you.”
“How could you do this to us?”
The man listens to the taunts and the accusations, shaking his head, as they get louder and louder. All the while he's whispering the word, “No,” over and over again.
Nightmares and dreams force us to think about things we would otherwise neglect. If we ignore a dream, normally it repeats itself and becomes recurring until the situation is dealt with. Sidney knows that dreams are a sign of mental health; he knows that they help; he also knows how to figure them out.
He re-reads his last three dreams, again, picturing them in his mind. He notes that they each signify his three greatest fears—going insane, not being able to help someone, and causing insanity. He wonders what brought these three things to his mind, asking himself question after question, jotting down things as necessary. He feels a little silly trying to analyze himself, but he knows it’s necessary.
Finally, when he’s satisfied, he yawns and glances at the clock—it’s nearly midnight. Setting down his pen and closing his journal, Sidney turns off his light and slides into the cot in the V.I.P tent, preparing to go to bed.
After a few minutes, he’s snoring peacefully.
In his sleep, Sidney smiles.
Fandom: M*A*S*H
Rating: PG
Pairing: None.
Summary: “The subconscious is where our deepest, darkest thoughts, fears, and feelings are stored.”
Word Count: 987
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. This work is not created for profit and constitutes fair use.
A/N: Has been slightly edited from its original version. Originally written for
hashbash, a M*A*S*H fiction contest.Doctor Sidney Freedman sits in the V.I.P tent of the 4077th M*A*S*H unit, at the desk. In his hand is a pen and on the desk, open to a fresh page, is his journal. He chews on the end of his pen for a moment, lost in thought, before beginning to write.
The entry title reads, “My dreams.”
A man sits in his home, at peace. He’s sitting in his favorite chair reading the day’s newspaper and drinking a mug of coffee—he’s content.
Very suddenly, the ground begins to shake and rumble, as if an earthquake has just struck. The house begins to crumble, and yet the man does not move. He looks around wildly, now horror stricken, as everything he knows turns to rubble. Feeling out of control, he drops to his knees, his fingers rubbing at his temples.
Dreams are symbolic, Sidney knows. They’re often trying to tell us something important, something we need to know or deal with. Oftentimes, unfortunately, these subconscious warnings or messages go unheeded, as we dismiss them as an overactive imagination or the result of stress and working too hard. They have to be deciphered—something not many of us have the knowledge or patience to do. So many times the issues our dreams bring to light go unresolved.
Sidney is committed to not letting this happen to him. He continues writing.
The man is sitting in a bright room, alone. After a minute, a nurse brings another man into the room. He’s tall, thin, has black hair and an accusing expression on his face. He’s in a straitjacket.
The first man opens his mouth to speak, to help, but no sound comes out. The longer he tries to talk, the more visibly angry the other man becomes. Finally, he stands up and heads toward the man in the straitjacket, to comfort him, but he finds that he cannot reach him - the room is divided by glass. He pounds on the glass—he’s got to save him!
Nothing works. He watches sadly as another nurse comes in and takes the other man away, but not before he mouths, “Why didn’t you help me?”
All the man can do is sit down, dejected, and think, ‘I tried.’
Sighing, Sidney sets down his pen. He knows that this is important. The subconscious is where our deepest, darkest thoughts, fears, and feelings are stored. These are emotions so intense that we don’t want to admit them to anyone, not even ourselves. Sidney knows that the only time they ever come out is at night, when we sleep. Then, and only then, as the conscious mind rests, and with it, the insecurities and the inhibitions, can thoughts so secretive they have to be encoded show up. They play themselves out in our minds, giving us what we call dreams.
Some dreams are nice, fluffy, and happy. Some dreams are silly or strange. Some come from the deepest corners of our minds and are terrifying—these are called nightmares. Everybody has them, nobody likes them, and they’re always there, warning us, of something. Sidney knows that nightmares are necessary.
Picking up his pen again, he wishes they weren’t.
The man is sitting in an office, looking over a file, when there is a knock at the door. He says quietly, “Come in,” but no one enters. He repeats his statement, this time a little louder, but still, there is no one. Shrugging it off as his imagination, he continues reading.
The knocking comes again. This time, the man gets up and head to the door. Opening it reveals one of his former patients, who is wearing a uniform proclaiming ‘Patient No. 34898' on his chest. The man looks at him, confused, but the patient simply walks in, and the man realizes that there is a line of people behind him, all following him into the office. The line is long, and there must be hundreds of people all trying to enter. Very quickly, his office is crammed with so many people there's barely any room to move. This is when he notices that he once treated each and every one of these people.
Wondering what’s going on, he asks. Everyone points to the window. Clearly confused, the man makes his way over to the window to have a look. Outside his office he sees a sign that proudly says, ‘Dr. Freedman’s Clinic for the Mentally Unstable.’
Shocked and horrified, he turns back to the crowd. “No,” he says. “I helped all of you. You’re all fine.”
“No we’re not,” says one of them.
“We’re all insane,” adds another.
“All because of you.”
“How could you do this to us?”
The man listens to the taunts and the accusations, shaking his head, as they get louder and louder. All the while he's whispering the word, “No,” over and over again.
Nightmares and dreams force us to think about things we would otherwise neglect. If we ignore a dream, normally it repeats itself and becomes recurring until the situation is dealt with. Sidney knows that dreams are a sign of mental health; he knows that they help; he also knows how to figure them out.
He re-reads his last three dreams, again, picturing them in his mind. He notes that they each signify his three greatest fears—going insane, not being able to help someone, and causing insanity. He wonders what brought these three things to his mind, asking himself question after question, jotting down things as necessary. He feels a little silly trying to analyze himself, but he knows it’s necessary.
Finally, when he’s satisfied, he yawns and glances at the clock—it’s nearly midnight. Setting down his pen and closing his journal, Sidney turns off his light and slides into the cot in the V.I.P tent, preparing to go to bed.
After a few minutes, he’s snoring peacefully.
In his sleep, Sidney smiles.