Mal’s Dream

Medical Record: Malcolm Reynolds

Entry by Dr. Simon Tam

Patient complains of trouble sleeping and nightmares. Patient could not remember the dreams, just that they interrupted his sleep. After some resistance, patient agreed to undergo light hypnosis in an attempt to recall the dreams. Patient went under hypnosis easily, and recounted the following recurring dream.

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Mal has been out working in the fields all day. This year’s planting of catalyzers is coming along fine. Looks like it’ll be a good crop. The stalks are already bowing under the weight of the shiny metal blossoms. He can probably start a harvest of early cats for the small ship market within a week.

The Valley is beautiful at sunset, the last rays of light glinting off the Alliance fighters strafing in the distance. As he gazes fondly at his homestead, Inara calls from the back porch. “Dinner’s ready, sweetheart. Come and wash up.”

Mal walks back to the house, passing the rusting Firefly up on blocks in the yard and the men lined up at the front door. He stops to wash his hands and face in the basin outside the kitchen entry. Drying off with a piece of flour sack, he crosses the threshold into the kitchen and sits down at the table. The interior of the house is one big room. The kitchen side has rough bare board walls and floor, with plain but sturdy furniture and a wood-burning stove. The parlor side is different. Wainscoting and crimson hangings adorn the plastered walls. Erotic art hangs from the picture rail. The parquet floor is covered with beautifully woven rugs. A well-stocked bar stands in the corner. Fine sofas and chairs upholstered in red velvet beckon one to sit. A strange man does sit on one of the sofas, sipping a glass of wine.

Inara, dressed in a low-cut red ball gown, is standing at the stove. She ladles up a bowl of hot stew, plops a spoon in it, and sets it down in front of Mal. A pitcher of cider and a hot loaf of homemade bread are already on the table. She pours him a mug of cider. “Here you are darling. Please go ahead, I’ve already eaten.”

As Mal digs in to the delicious horsemeat and protein bar stew, she goes to the other side of the room, takes the stranger’s hand, and leads him to the bedroom. The door closes and soon sounds of passionate lovemaking can be heard. A couple of minutes later they emerge arm in arm. “…oh, no. It was my pleasure, sir.” Inara escorts the man to the back door. “Thank you, and please come again.” As the door closes behind the man, she turns to Mal.

“How was your day, honey?

‘The catalizers are comin’ along real well. Looks like a bumper crop. What with the war an’ all, the market’s good this year. Should turn a tidy profit. How ‘bout you?”

‘Well, that’s…” She pulls a pad from her pocket and looks at it, “a hundred and forty eight so far today and I have a couple of hours yet to go. Don’t wait up for me, dearest, but leave the light on.”

“Alright, sweet. You think you’ll be able to take a break here soon?

‘Soon as I don’t have a line outside the door, I promise, we’ll have some time for ourselves.”

She checks the clock in the parlor, and bends to kiss Mal on the cheek. “Well, back to work, love.”

Returning to the parlor, she shouts, “Next!” and the front door opens to admit another man.

Suddenly Mal’s viewpoint soars through the ceiling into the sky. He can see the line of men extending from the door to the horizon. As he gets higher, he sees it stretching out of the valley, and then branching into three. Each of these lines forks again and again. Some go to cities and towns around the planet. Others go to spaceports, where a constant stream of ships brings more and more men from all over the ‘verse.

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At this point I awakened the patient. Suggested treatment by either a full course of analysis, or a maintenance dose of Syntholethe to help him sleep. Patient refused medication and has not agreed to analysis. He has instead been self-medicating with alcoholic beverages. End report.