Paramount Global owns the Star Trek franchise. This is a piece of fan fiction based on Star Trek the Next Generation.
Who’s dreaming now?
Westerfield appeared to be sleeping soundly in his bed. He let out a moan.
“No, no.” His dream was more intense than any dream he had ever had. Voices filled his head.
“You will choose the first to die.” The voices spoke, overlapping voices that sounded almost demonic.
“No. No one needs to die.”
“Yes, someone will die. People have died. The blood of many will be spilled in the name of Westerfield.” He moaned. “No.”
“You are a bad person, Westerfield. The bad in you out weighs the good. You CHOOSE!”
“No.” He persisted.”
“Will it be your old friend Captain Picard?” Picard’s image floated across his mind.
“No.” He thrashed in the bed.
“Will it be your nagging sagging battle axe of a wife?”
He saw his wife waving her fist at him, screaming at the top of her lungs because he stayed late at the office again. He felt a surge of bitterness. “No.”
“Will it be your daughter? She was supposed to be a boy anyway. Now who is going to carry on the Westerfield line?” She was walking down the aisle with the man he wouldn’t have picked for her.
“No.”
“Will it be that secretary that you shipped off? She tried to bring charges against you because you got her pregnant. Just think about what that would have done to your reputation in Star Fleet.” He was giving her the envelope with her transfer papers in it. She was near tears. But would not give up the child inside of her.
“No “
“How about your son-in-law? He is the monster that married your daughter.
That bastard. Unfit to marry the only Westerfield left on Earth. TRASH!” He saw them sitting on a bench kissing in his backyard. It made him sick to think of his daughter with him.
“No.” He wildly kicked the covers off of him.
“I know. What about Data? You hate Data. It’s no secret. He knows it. You know it. He got something you couldn’t and you hate him for it. Make him pay.” He saw Sher and Data talking. She was smiling that big smile that he loved to see. Data was holding her hand across the table. He filled with bitterness at the thought of Data kissing her.
“No.”
“Well then how about your granddaughter? She should have been a boy.” She went skipping across the grass. Her little blonde locks bouncing as she hopped.
Westerfield smiled to himself. If there was one person in the world he could love, it was her. She didn’t hold it against him that he didn’t get promoted or that his hair was turning gray. She held no animosity toward him.
“No.”
“Then who?”
“I have never killed anyone.”
“No?” Questioned the voices. “But you tried.”
“No!” He shouted waking himself up. The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears. There was no one in the room but him.
Poetry & More 