To: Mr. J. Kirk <secondstar@gmail.com>, Mr. M. Scott <madmonty@gmail.com>, Uhura <emailhere@domain>, Spock <spock@fullerton.edu> From: Gaila <lassiecassie@gmail.com> Subject: Re: Our meeting at Mad Dog's and Englishmen
Okay Okay. Some of these I hadn't even told Scotty before last night. There's a few recurring ones that are just..images or sounds. Really short. One involves...intimate relations with Kirk (ew I know). There's another where there's this awesome computer and I just want to caress and make love to it. (less eww). I'm getting some kind of shot in another and the doctor is saying that it should "supress them" and that I should be back next month. There's another one too! I'm..really excited and I'm in a box. Or like..a pond skipper. A really small plane. But I can see the earth out the window and then there's this flash of some kind of....thing! Also, I'm green!
Those were the first ones I was getting, but lately I've been getting longer ones. More detailed. Its..easier to type it down than say it and ...that was hard enough. I'm trapped under something. Some wreckage. There's a body nearby but I can't see his face, and I'm bleeding. I'm still green. Everything is making me dizzy, the ground is shaking and I can hear people screaming and some kind of..distant booming or zapping. I'm trapped for..I don't know how long. A very long time. It was very lonely. I was very scared.
I had some weird ones last night after the bar, where I was younger, but still green. I'm not sure. They made me uncomfortable. In one I'm...exuding something? It makes guys go crazy. They'll do anything for me. Someone makes me have one kill another. I make them bathe me, wash me. I'm just a kid! In another there's a woman. She's green too, more of an olive. She's my mother. Only not my mother. I'm a little older, I'm arguing with her. I don't want to do this, I want to leave, I want to explore. But mother knows best. She leads me to a room filled with men. They're all mine, they'll do anything for me, kill, or die, or love.
There was one more. I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry.