I'm no stranger to dreams. After Charlie died, he lived on in my sleep, and I'm not ashamed to say that sometimes the hours spent retreating from life were more real than life itself. In sleep, Charlie could still look with yearning at my lap even though he'd tell anyone who'd listen that he was too big for "sitting on dad's lap".
In those strange quiet hours between midnight and dawn, Charlie still played ball with me, ate Cheerios, and made slurping noises in order to piss off his mother. He left the toilet seat up so he could blame his dad, then shared his slice of double cheese pizza, no sauce, with me.
In my dreams, I could sit on the edge of his bed and watch him sleep, blankets tangled around his legs, cheeks slightly flushed, breathing soft and a gift from God.
In Iraq, dreams, both waking and sleeping, kept me alive. No matter what was done to me, Sara and Charlie were there, out of range of my tormentors, but within reach of me if I'd just hang on. I did just that and was blessed to once again hold both of them in my arms. My dreams kept me alive, kept hope burning deep within me, but later, when I needed them to come true, as they had after Iraq, when I needed Charlie to be alive, my dreams failed me.
They have failed me ever since.
Now my dreams, waking and sleeping, remind me of all that I should have done, of words I should have said. Dreams point fingers and tell me that I could have had it all, for the price of a few words.
I'm a strong man, though, and by sheer will alone, I turn them off. It doesn't matter when they come or what they say, or what they show me, I can't afford them now. Living every day takes all my energy, energy that I can't waste on dreams, recriminations, or 'if onlys'. I still save the world on fairly regular basis and that's taking more and more of me, and leaving less and less behind.
There was a time when saving Earth was almost fun, a time when the four of us marched into Hell together, comrades-in-arms, quips at the ready. We were a unique team, held together by a powerful glue called Daniel. He kept us facing North, kept us on the yellow brick road. Eventually, he began to fill my dreams as he filled every waking moment.
Three years ago, I saved the world with panache, and my dreams were filled with a smile that could light up a country. Visions behind closed eyes were filled with watching a special someone sleep and trying to figure out what color, exactly, his hair was. In sleep, I could trace those lips with my finger and he'd open them and suck it inside.
In the daylight hours, I could watch him walk ahead of me, my eyes fixed to a spot below his waist, and I could dream of planting kisses on the sweet, soft, perfect round flesh. I could see blue eyes turned to me in love, humor flashing within their depths as he teased. I could feel warm breath brush my cheek just before he planted a kiss on my lips.
I've always had a good imagination for a military guy, but in dreams, it really used to go hog wild. In those dreams of a few years ago, I had it all, which translated, means; I had Daniel Jackson. In love, in sex, in my bed, by my side.
Of course, back then, I had him in my waking life too, just not as thoroughly and just not in love.
And now? Like Charlie, Daniel lives only in my dreams.
But last night, something happened. Something different. Daniel and Charlie came to me -- together.
Tough mission, hard to tell the bad guys from the good, and we found ourselves battling with the bad against the good. Sure, we finally rectified our error, but damn, it had been a close one.
Back home and exhausted, I tumbled into bed expecting nothing but the deep tunnel of sleep that often follows that kind of mission. Dreamless sleep that allows my body and mind to recharge. I was very surprised when Daniel showed up.
"Jack?"
"Yeah?"
"You did good today."
In my sleep, those words sent shivers of happiness throughout my body. Why is it that only in sleep do I recognize, and acknowledge, how much Daniel's respect has always meant to me?
"Thanks," I say, meaning it.
"I won't say that the difficulty we had with the Eurondans helped, but it seemed to hover in the background, if you know what I mean?"
I did. I doubt if either Carter or I would have been so cautious if not for our experience with the Eurondans. If not for Daniel whispering somehwere in the back of our minds. I didn't tell him that, though.
"Jack, I know it's getting tougher for you, so I... well, I brought someone with me this time."
Daniel was surrounded by a misty silvery light, but I could see him clearly. A backlit form appeared from behind him, then stepped forward so that I could identify him. It was Charlie.
"Hi, Dad."
He said it so simply that I just naturally smiled. "Hi, Son."
"I'm not sure how Daniel managed this, but I guess he knew I had something to say to you, Dad. So here I am."
I looked over at Daniel and found him smiling gently down at my son. The love emanating from him almost overwhelmed me.
He loves my son.
I turned my attention back to Charlie. "Daniel can do a lot of things, so I'm not surprised to see you. What did you need to say?"
I wasn't even remotely prepared for the answer.
"I love you, Dad. I didn't get to say it... before. We fought and I was angry, but not really, you know? And ... I'm sorry. About... you know, being in your room, and playing--"
It was too much and I held up my hand to stop him as hot tears burned my eyes.
Sometimes, dreams are too real for my comfort zone.
"No Charlie, don't say it. I'm the one who should--"
"Jack, let Charlie finish. It's important to him."
Daniel's words came like a soft breeze, giving me comfort and sending pulses of security flowing through me like electricity. I nodded and shut up.
"You taught me well, Dad, you did. I knew better, but I was angry, and it was like I needed to defy you."
He wasn't saying anything I hadn't figured out for myself a long time ago, and yet, I sensed something else coming.
"But Dad, you gotta know, it was an accident. It really was. I was only going to touch it, see? Like, as if saying, 'I can do this no matter what you say,' so I took it out and held it. I heard a noise, and I thought it was you, and it startled me. I dropped the gun. That's when, I think, the safety popped off. I scrambled down off the bed and got on the floor and I was hurrying because I was afraid you or mom were coming up. I reached under the bed and found it and started to draw it out--"
I knew what was coming and I begged God to allow me to please wake up. No way did I want to hear it.
"...and it happened, Daddy. It just happened."
Oh, Lord, he looked so young, and yet so... much wiser than I.
"I know, Charlie, I know. It's all right," I said, yearning to hold him.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
"I'm sorry too, Son. I love you, Charlie."
"I'm okay, really. It's cool here since Daniel brought me over. It was cool before, but different. Now I'm doing all sorts of important stuff and it's really neat, and Dad? I'm always here with you now. Always. Even when I'm doing neat stuff. But Daddy, you gotta be more careful, okay?"
I couldn't help it, I started laughing. It was a good laugh, and I spotted the twitch starting with Charlie, then he was laughing too. A moment later, a sweet, dark, low laugh joined ours, and I knew, without looking, that it was Daniel.
When I could, I finally said, "I will, Charlie, I'll be more careful. I promise."
Then Daniel placed his hand on Charlie's shoulder and gave him a nod, and that was all my son needed. He ran towards me and threw himself into my arms. I lifted him up, and he was so light, and I held him close, buried my fingers in his soft hair, closed my eyes and rested my cheek against the side of his head.
The moment seemed to go on eternally, to never end. At one point, I looked up, and there were tears running down Daniel's cheeks. In my dream, I smiled almost shyly and mouthed, "Thank you." He gave me a soft, 'What did I do?' shrug, and damn, it was just so Daniel.
When I woke up, my bed was surrounded by the smell of my son, and even now, I can still feel him in my arms. There is no sorrow, only a deep, contented happiness shadowed lovingly with peace.
That dream carries me forward just as my dreams of Daniel did while I was Baal's prisoner. Okay, I admit that for a while, I believed the dream Daniel that came to me in that cell was real, because I dreamed him again in the Infirmary. I believed that I was seeing the ascended Daniel.
But I wasn't. I wasn't. It was all just a dream.
Daniel is dead. I know that now. I understand that my mind couldn't accept his death, so I imagined him doing the whole ascending thing. At least that way, I could pretend that he was near. And I could feed off of my anger with him. And I was angry with him, angry that he would sacrifice himself for others, angry at him for dying. It became very easy to transfer that anger to his 'choosing to ascend' rather than staying with me.
See, that way, I could be mad, but with the knowledge that he was 'out there, somewhere'.
But damn, the madness and anger are gone now, thanks to last night's dream. And with the passing of that anger, came great pain.
Daniel is gone -- forever.
I will never see him smile that shy smile again, nor will I ever hear his voice, soothing and soft, as he tries to help me, or teach me, or joke with me. I'll never see those elegant fingers dancing in the air as he tries to get his point across, nor those expressive, near perfect eyebrows doing a Dutch jig over the rim of his glasses.
But I have my dreams.
I wonder how long they will keep me going this time?
finis