The DREAM WORLD Series
DAYDREAM REALITY

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----- Part 1 -----
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It had been a long week. Once the glow of the first few days had worn off, the heavy, far more intense work began. The long days of blocking and script revisions became the rule as opposed to the exception. Early morning calls to the set took their toll on everyone.

This morning marked a week since the pomp and circumstance of the first day's filming. Again, Aaron couldn't help but muse how quickly things could change in the space of a week. They were still enjoying themselves, but stamina had to come into play at this point to keep everything on the same high energy level of the first few days.

All four actors were sitting down on the couch in the middle of the Monkees TV beach house set. Well, actually a set of a set. It was break time, but everyone was almost too tired to move. Jeff was sitting, head cocked back, staring straight up at the ceiling, eyes closed. George had managed to slide over a second chair to prop his legs up on and was concentrating on catching a little rest on this precious little bit of downtime. Aaron and LB were probably the only two still concious, but even they were dragging at a snail's pace.

Aaron was finding it increasingly hard to keep his eyes pinned on the magazine infront of him. The words kept on running together and slipping neatly in and out of focus. He hadn't been this tired in, well, ever. Even if it was a late night and they had been filming for the past 14 hours, he felt like he shouldn't be THIS tired. Although the others would be loudly snoring by the time the break was over, Aaron knew it wasn't a mark of one's professionalism to be asleep on the set when the director returned.

Following this line of reasoning, he did everything in his power to remain awake until everyone came back to finish up the few remaining takes and go home. He just had to keep telling himself that the lure of a soft bed was far more appealing than nodding off here in a hardback chair, covered with makeup. He even started tapping out the beat to "Randy Scouse Git" on his leg and humming along, but it was no use. This break seemed to be going on forever.

Eventually, despite his better judgement, Aaron too had fallen sound asleep.

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The first thing that came to his mind was how dry his mouth felt. Great. I fell asleep with my mouth open once again. Something was lurking at the edge of conciousness, but for the life of him he couldn't place a finger on what it was. Slowly, disjointed images began to return to him. They had been filming extremely late and he and the other guys had nodded off. This did, however, beg a question: How long had he been asleep?

Eyes still clamped shut, Aaron moaned. "Guys? Get up." Eventually, the lump to his left began to stir in response.

"Sorry. Guess I must have dozed off for a second there." LB's voice penetrated the silence in the room.

Body awkward and sluggish to respond, it took several minutes for Aaron's eyes to focus. The room was empty. More than that, all the equiptment had been packed away and instead of the backstage area, there was a fourth wall in place. Was this someone's idea of a joke? He had a computer, for god sakes! He read fanfiction! If the crew was playing some sort of a trick, they needed to do their homework a little better. The plot line of a set suddenly becoming reality had been written time and time again, ad nauseum. "Yeah, real good guys. You can cut it out already. Look, we're sorry we fell asleep."

LB was fully awake by this point too, and not anymore taken with the crew's attempt at humor than Aaron was. He strode over to the newly placed fourth wall and rapped hard on it. "C'mon, already. I'd really like to catch some quality shut eye tonight, if it's all the same to you guys. Let's finish that last scene up and go home." There was a long moment of silence. "Guys?"

A sound of alarm came from behind LB and he whirled to find Aaron standing out on the patio of the beach house set. His face was one of complete shock. So lost was he in his own thoughts that he didn't even realize when LB had come up beside him and tugged on his sleeve.

"What is it?" LB asked with concern.

"It's a real beach." Aaron managed to mutter under his breath as he stared down below.

"Alright, so it's a very GOOD joke?"

"LB, be serious with me for a moment." He turned to face his new friend. "How do I look?"

"What? You're going all Narcissus on me now? You look fine." LB tried his best to make light of a situation that was growing more and more disturbing by the moment. He had a feeling he knew where Aaron was going with this, but he wished with all his might that he was wrong.

"You know what I mean." The intensity in his eyes was beginning to unsettle LB. "Who do I look like?"

"Well, Micky Dolenz, duh. We have a really good makeup department. If it wasn't for the Emmy voting committee's prejudice against made-for-TV movies I'd swear our guys would be shoe-ins for the statue this year---" He trailed off as Aaron dashed for a mirror hanging on the far wall. "Aaron? Aaron, you're freaking me out." LB's voice now held more than a hint of alarm in it.

"Not Aaron.... Micky." His voice was laced with something near panic. "Micky Dolenz."

LB stared in shock as Aaron tugged at what had been his wig and was now apparently his real hair. Numbly, LB walked over to the mirror himself for a look. "Oh God." He ran a hand through his hair and soundlessly let his curious hand drop back to his side. It was no use. He knew he'd just find what Aaron himself had just confirmed. "Time for the million dollar question... how in the world did this happen?!"

"Wish I knew, man."

Silence hung between them for nearly a full minute before another form stirring on the couch drew their attention. George was waking up now. Time to go break the news. Maybe the other two could think of something to do that they hadn't already considered. Awkwardly, LB returned to the couch and tapped Jeff on the shoulder to wake him up as well.

"Morning, sleepy head." LB tried to sound as calm as possible.

Jeff woke with a start. "I'm up! I'm up. Sorry 'bout that. Guess I must've dozed off for a moment there."

Aaron groaned. "Your voice."

"What? What 'bout it?" He drawled in an unmistakable Texas accent. Confusion flooded Jeff's mind. He wasn't intentionally changing his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again but was only met with the same result. "What in the world---"

"We don't know." Aaron said flatly. "But it's safe to say that Toto, we're not in Toronto anymore."

"I'm not seein' this. I'm dreamin'." He ran a hand through the black hair that was now apparently his own. It was unbelievable. Somehow overnight they had all changed into the real Monkees. Jeff was even more disturbed to discover that he wasn't just talking or moving around in a Mike-style, he was thinking like the Texan. Whereas he had looked upon the others before as one might look upon his co-workers, Jeff now saw them as his closest buddies. Forcing himself to remember what was real was tricky. If he didn't forcefully run the names through his head now, he just knew he would slip up. Aaron, LB, George. Not Micky, Peter and Davy. He repeated the mantra over and over in his head.

While Jeff was adrift in his own world, George had slowly come to. Everyone was staring down at him. He'd fallen asleep! Oh boy, was he in trouble for this one. Scrambling to his feet he shifted his gaze from face to face. Staring speachlessly, something suddenly dawned on him. Whereas he should have been able to see eye to eye with most of the others at his 5'7" height, he was now, with some effort, looking up at everyone. "What's all this about, fellahs?" He said in what he was shocked to find as his Davy voice. His eyes went wide.

"Calm down. Don't get all riled up. Somethin' weird went down last night." Jeff tried his best to assure George.

"What 'appened to yer voice?" Shocked, the young man touched a hesitant hand to his own throat. "Bettah question. What 'appened tah MINE?"

"Something happened last night, George. We... changed into The Monkees somehow or other." LB said, long blonde hair bouncing as he turned his head to face George. Irritated, he brushed it back out of his eyes.

"No way, man. Ah must be dreamin' or somethin'."

"We're all having the same dream then." Micky... no, Aaron added dryly.

"You're crazy!"

"Calm down, George. We'll find out what's going on here." LB tried to help Aaron calm down their friend.

"Calm down? How'm I s'posed to do that?" George stalked over to the mirror for a long look. "I just lost four bloody inches off my height, I'm locked in this English accent, an' you tell me to calm down!"

No one answered him. An uncomfortable silence fell once more over the room. Each of the guys was staring at the others in disbelief. It wasn't possible, was it? To wake up and be a guy you'd only learned enough about to play convincingly in a TV movie?

A sharp knock on the door brought everyone crashing down to reality.

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"Open up!! Pay day!" The voice that they all recognised as belonging to the Monkees' landlord, Mr. Babbit hollared from the hallway.

"Oh great. What do I do?" Aaron asked, being the one closest to the door.

"Let the guy in?" LB shrugged.

"Gee, thanks man. Really helpful." He muttered and slid open the peep hole in the door. A very irritated man with red, bloodshot eyes glared back at him.

"Dolenz! Open this door!"

With a shrug, Aaron unlocked the heavy wooden door and Mr. Babbit stormed in, neatly squashing the faux-drummer behind it. "Glad to be of service." Aaron mumbled from his sandwiched position.

"Cut the shenanigans, boys. You know why I'm here." Babbit fumed.

"We do?" LB scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Don't play dumb with me, Tork." The Monkees' landlord held out his hand expectantly.

"Who's playing?" Aaron finally dislodged himself from his place behind the door and came to stand next to LB. The blonde turned to Aaron, angrilly. "Play along." He mumbled. LB showed that he understood with a small, almost imperceptable nod.

"That's not fair, Micky!" LB crossed his arms and pouted.

Jeff decided it was his turn jump into the conversation. Mike usually handled the irate landlord. "Uh, Mr. Babbit.. sir?" A steely cold glare was all that he got in reply. "W-we just need a little more time to get the cash together."

"More excuses, eh Nesmith?" The old man let out a long, measured sigh. "Three more days. And that's it. Any longer and you're out. Got it?"

"Got it!" All four chimed in together simultaniously, then turned to stare at each other wondering how the heck they had just done that. Mr. Babbit seemed not to notice, however, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

"Pleasant fellow." George mused, quickly snapping his mouth shut again in irritation at the voice that came out of it.

"Let it go, George." Jeff sighed. "I'm not exactly talkin' in the preferred syle but d'ya see me complainin'?"

Throwing his hands up in surrender, the young man decided it was high time he spoke his mind. "We've gotta find a way outta here. I'm not sure about you all, but I don't wanna spend the rest of my life like this." All nodded in agreement, except for Aaron who, having tuned them out, looked pretty far away.

"Earth ta space cadet." George reached up to wave his hand infront of Aaron's face.

"Huh? Oh, right, sorry guys. I just thought of a way to pay off Babbit AND find out just how much has changed
around us." Aaron motioned them all into a huddle.

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The tambourine sat heavilly in George's hand. Not that he wasn't accustomed to it after a week of filming, but something felt different now. Almost a secret loathing of it. That was all he was good at, huh? Mike and Peter could play instruments coming out of their ears, and even Micky had learned the drums, but poor little Davy was stuck with only the musical knowledge to tap out the beat on this tambourine or the maracas.

Whoa. Where did that come from? I'm George Stanchev, not Davy Jones.... right?

Aaron was hesitant to sit down behind the drums. It was a good plan in theory. Play a gig to find out just how much the world around them had changed, as well as get Mr. Babbit off their case for awhile by using the money to pay off the rent. But what did he know about the drums? He had learned just enough to look semi-convincing behind them for the movie, but that was far from being a full-fledged drummer. Some irresistable instinct pulled him into a sitting position anyway though, and he took up the sticks before he really knew what he was doing.

Mike's prized Black Beauty sat proped up on the bandstand. Jeff walked over and picked it up, feeling what was, oddly, a familiar weight in his hands. Slipping the strap over his shoulder, he ran his fingers over the strings, rolling out several chords with ease. It felt so natural... and that's probably what scared him the most.

"Man." LB stared at Jeff for a long moment before taking up a spot behind the piano. "That was great."

"I didn't mean for it to be." Jeff felt slightly numb. "I guess we can do this afterall, huh?" He managed a weak smile.

"Well, let's put that theory to the test, shall we?" Aaron's voice came from behind the drum kit.

Jeff played the first few chords of "Take a Giant Step" and soon everyone had joined in.

"Though you've played at love and lost, and sorrow's turned your heart to frost... I will melt your heart again." Aaron sang, but it wasn't in his own voice, it was Micky's, and this time he wasn't lipsyncing.

This continued on for over an hour, the guys producing song after song with amazing accuracy. Everything from "Pleasant Valley Sunday" to "Mary, Mary" and back again, and still they had no idea how they were doing it.

".. I wanna be free... I wanna be free... I wanna be free..." George trailed off on the last few notes of Davy's famous song.

"Well, I guess there isn't any debate anymore over whether or not we can do this, huh?" LB piped up. He had loosened up considerably since earlier and was, he hated to admit it, enjoying himself immensely by this point. Who cared if they were currently experiencing the plot of a sci-fi novel? No reason to let that keep them from having fun while they were here.

Taking the initiative, Jeff headed over to the phone and picked it up, dialing the number for 'The Cassandra'. If he played his cards right, this wouldn't be a problem. "Hello? Yeah, this is Jeff Ged--" he caught himself. "This is Mike Nesmith of The Monkees." He lowered his voice and started scrawling down the information for playing a date at the local club.

"Man, look at 'im." George said as he sat down next to LB and Aaron. "Completely on top of everythin'."

"Comes with the whole Mike Nesmith territory." Aaron explained. "He probably feels like Mike would... as if he needs to provide for the rest of us. Like the leader."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm more than happy to let him do it." LB was twirling his hair. He didn't want to alarm the others, but he had started to see everyone more and more as their Monkee counterparts and less and less as the actors he had been introduced to last week. It probably worked the other way as well, he realized. He had picked up several of Peter's tendancies which had shocked him when he realized it. The largest shock of which was the way he'd buckled his belt to the side so that while they were playing he wouldn't scratch his guitar. Definately disconcerting, but he couldn't let his problems worry the others right now.

"Got it!" Jeff jumped up, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. "Tomorrow night at the Cassandra. Eight o'clock." He glanced up when he didn't recieve a response. "What?"

"Tomorrow." LB's mouth hung open.

"You said---" Aaron began.

"Tomorrah." George finished.

"Uh, yeah." Jeff pulled off the wool hat and ran a comb through his hair.

"And you're okay with this whole set up?" Aaron followed him to the mirror.

"I have to be. There's nothing else we can do right now." He turned to Aaron, clearly no more thrilled by the prospect of spending a whole second day in this predicament.

"Wha' dya expect us tah do in thah meantime?" George finally asked the question everyone else hadn't wanted to. "There is no way I'm goin' out in public like this!"

"If everything's changed out there as much as it's changed in here, I don't really think that should be a problem. I suspect they'd just see you as Davy Jones." Aaron stood up and headed back over to the balcony. "I think I'll go for a swim..."

"I'll go with you if you're so afraid of going outside." LB grabbed George by the arm and dragged him out the door.

As the door closed behind the two Faux-Monkees, Aaron bounded back down the spiral staircase and out to the beach, towel in hand. Jeff was left alone in the pad now. Being the 'adult' Monkee did have it's down side. Oh sure, he could have gone out with the others, but it would have the effect of a parent on a date-- unwanted. Plus, he figured they needed some apart time right now to sort everything out. Resigned to this fact, he sat back and strummed a little on the guitar. He would just have to wait for them to come around.

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The VH1 movie "Daydream Believers: The Monkees Story" is copywrite Pebblehut Productions. I am in no way affiliated with the guys who played the Monkees (Aaron Lohr, LB Fisher, George Stanchev, and Jeff Geddis) in this movie. I just wrote this out of admiration for the guys and the incredible job done on the movie. If you don't agree with my interpretation of one of the actors or one of them happens to actually READ this... I'm simply guessing about what they're (you're) really like. No offense is intended! This fanfic is copywrite Random Fandom. If you would like to link Random Fandom on your own website, be my guest!