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DREAM WORLD
The Sequel to "Daydream Reality"

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Aaron was able to fit in neatly among the throng of angry protesters. That probably had something to do with the fact that these strikers were actors, so he fit right in. Just a face in the crowd of Hollywood's finest. Striking finest, but still the finest. Or so they thought anyway.

Oh, yeah, some of these folks had legitimate concerns over loosing their rights to residuals, consequentially giving them a cause to strike for. But a majority o them? They were the hoity-toity higher ups who just wanted more money and some 'vacation time'. It really made his blood boil that the free loading few gave the whole cause a bad name. The legitimate reasons were pulled under by the popular newsmedia-fed belief that AL striking actors were of the free loading, ulterior motive variety.

Deep thinking today. He chided himself. Careful or you're liable to sprain something. Lately Aaron found himself working extra hard to keep from taking things... like himself... too seriously. Laughing at yourself was the only way to go. Especially after the events of the past year when a routine job on a TV movie in Toronto had led to the adventure of a lifetime. Reflecting on the experience now, it was hard to believe what had happened. If he tried to tell someone else about turning into Micky Dolenz, he was positive they would think him crazy, so he had deliberately kept the memories to himself. Only three other guys in the whole world knew what he knew. And he was positive that they weren't about to tell either.

Regrets also tended to clog up one's head space, he realized. Despite Aaron's best intentions, he had basically lost touch with LB, Jeff and George. In a large world like the entertainment industry, it wasn't to be unexpected that they would drift apart, but he hated loosing track of them. They had a very close bond. Something far stronger than having done a movie in common.

With all of this in mind, the last person he had expected to run into among the throng of people was LB Fisher. He was a few feet away, face to face with a rather nasty looking, burly gentleman with a beer belly that could have easily outweighed LB's entire body.

"Oh Lord." Aaron muttered and started wading through the crowd. Hang on, pal.

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"I'm sorry. Not sure what else I can say." LB repeatedly tried to walk around the grossly rotund gentleman in front of him... if 'gentleman' was even the proper phrase in this case.

"You scuffed my shoes." The man was persistent, you had to give him that.

Trying his best to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, LB tried again. "As I said, I'm sorry I bumped into you, but I have to be going now."

A grunt was his only reply.

Oh boy. This is about to get really interesting. LB groaned inwardly. Strikes were ugly things, and their participants even uglier, if this guy was any example.

"You scuffed---" The man began once again.

"---my shoes. He heard you the first fifty times." Aaron burst on to the scene, seemingly out of nowhere. "Now if you'll excuse me, you're detaining my friend here."

"You know this bum?" Short, squat and hefty demanded.

Aaron grinned. "Yep!"

"Then you're willing to pay for his screw up?"

"Well, I have given some thought to that and after considering the matter carefully... NAH."

The man fumed and lashed out with his fist suddenly, but Aaron was ready, having anticipated the move, and was already safely out of harm's way with LB in tow.

"Thanks." LB's eyes were wide with shock.

"No time for that. Gotta move!" Aaron yanked him along.

"Wait... AARON?!" LB recognized his savior just in time to be practically knocked off his feet. They didn't stop running either, until they were at least a block away.

"Whew. Close one." Aaron gasped once they had come to a safe haven.

LB rubbed his neck, certain his old pal had given him a nice case of whiplash. He did manage a small smile however. "Long time no see. I was hoping I'd see you again, but that wasn't how I'd envisioned the reunion."

"Makes two of us!" Aaron chuckled and pulled LB into a quick hug. For both of them, it really was like seeing a member of their own family again.

"So what are you doing hanging around here?" LB waved his hand around to indicate the throngs of protesters. "You never struck me as the picket-line type."

Aaron shrugged and picked up the front page of a discarded newspaper. ACTORS AND WRITERS ALIKE STRIKE. "Gotta hand it to Dr. Seuss. I never thought he'd reinvent himself as a headline writer."

"Yeesh. That's pretty bad." LB agreed. Trying to get back on topic, he pointed to a corner diner. "I ran into Jeff a little while ago in there. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll still be taking in the sights and sounds of Joe's Eatery."

Chuckling, Aaron rolled up the newspaper. "Speaking of lousy headlines. 'Joe's Eatery'?"

It was LB's turn to shrug. "You coming or not?" He teased.

"Course! Haven't seen Jeff in months. Let's go!" Aaron hefted the paper with sudden inspiration and waved it around playfully. "Actor's Strike Clogs City Streets! Mob of Protesters Banging Down Corporate America's Door!"

LB cocked an incredulous eyebrow. "What? Were you a newspaper boy as a kid or something?" Walking on ahead, he missed the amused expression on Aaron's face.

"Something like that."

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"I'm falling, falling... I'm falling head over heals with you..."

"FOR you. Where is your mind today, pal?" A bearded technician's voice blared through the recording booth George Stanchev had been stuck in for the past four hours. Cutting an album was definitely no picnic, that was for sure. "You don't concentrate, we'll NEVER get your album out into stores. That's a promise."

"I'm sorry." Was all the Bulgarian-born actor could manage to muster up in response.

Running a hand through his beard, the technician got to his feet in disgust. "Let's call it a day. Maybe we'll all be feeling a touch more creative," He glared pointedly at George, "after a good night's rest."

He knew they were supposed to keep going for at least another hour, but George was too frustrated and was relieved to escape his glass-walled prison, commonly referred to as a recording studio. He bolted out of the door without another word.

It was frustrating that he couldn't focus. Really, he hadn't been able to focus well for weeks. Make that months. A year? He knew where to trace it back to, though. That damn Monkees movie had started it. Or to be more precise, the events surrounding the filming. Events such as waking up to find out he had been transformed into the man he was portraying.

Walking along reading storefronts was the way he chose to spend his sudden excess of free time. The local Burger King, McDonald's, oh, and the requisite GAP store every mile or so, provided his entertainment. A coin laundry. A corner restaurant called Joe's Eatery. A Disney Store. So wrapped up in identifying store fronts was he, that he didn't notice three guys stepping out of the corner diner.

"Why don't you frame me and put me on the wall... why don't you sit and wait for me to fall..." George found himself singing under his breath, head still angled skyward. Why is it that I can sing better now? He wasn't able to muddle the question over in his mind any further, however, for that was when he slammed straight into the trio of Joe's Eatery patrons.

"Sorry!" He rushed to apologize.

"It's alright. No harm--- George?!" The shocked expression on Aaron's face was strangely comforting to George. A friendly face at long last.

"Talk about deja vu all over again." George chuckled and helped Aaron to his feet.

Aaron grinned. "We have got to stop running into each other like this."

A hand shot up from behind Aaron and Jeff stepped into George's line of sight. "Someone want to fill me in? I'm feeling like the odd man out here."

"It's the way I met up with George here in the first place. Something about this guy makes me want to body slam him."

"Uhm, alright... weird." LB got to his feet. "There's one sentence I wouldn't say too loudly in public if I were you."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Nice to know your mind still lives in the gutter."

"ANYWAY," Aaron broke in, sensing the conversation could be taking a rather disturbing turn, "I say it's definitely party time! 'Hey, hey, the gang's all here', and so on and so forth."

"You aren't going to start singing now, are you?" LB grinned, missing the instant look of discomfort on George's face.

Aaron brushed George's behavior aside, figuring his pal was just tired. He's the big pop star now, right? Probably just spent a long night in the recording studio or something. He turned to LB in mock irritation. "Just for that YOU'RE paying for dinner."

Laughing, all four headed off down the street. Reunited after almost a year apart, they hardly noted their surroundings of strike mayhem. As far as they were concerned, the strike was miles away, irrelevant in comparison to finding out what their friends had been up to in the past year.

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"Thank you for traveling Brown Coach. Have a perfectly pleasant day!" An exceedingly perky and sugary sweet attendant chirped as the charter bus pulled into downtown LA.

A guy could get diabetes just listening to that chick. He mused in disgust as he climbed out into the bright glare of the midday sun. Damn. Shades.. shades.. I know they're here somewhere. He rifled through his backpack, finally coming across his best, alright, only pair of sunglasses.

Flipping them up, shading his eyes successfully, Kez took in the century he had only dared to dream about. "Groovy man."

The attendant stepped up to him. "Are you looking for something, sir?"

Fighting back an urge to retch, Kez forced a smile and shook his head. "I'll know them when I see them."