Greetings everyone! Welcome to the all-new Suite Dreams Collection, an integrated assortment of one-shots by various fanfiction writers depicting the dreams of our beloved Suite Life characters. I started this collection mainly because of my own fascination with dreams and my goal is for people to dive into the minds of these characters—into their deepest thoughts and feelings. These thoughts and feelings don't have to be canon. In fact, I intend for everyone to interpret the characters individually. I'm far more interested in creativity and writing quality. As far as pairings are concerned (since they seem to be such a focal aspect on this forum), any and all are welcome, and that includes slash pairings. The only exception to this rule is twincest, which will not be permitted whatsoever.
One-shots can be as long or as short as the author wants to make them, and can be about ANY Suite Life character (even a non-regular one). They can be written in any format, be of any rating (even M), encompass things from either or both SL shows (crossovers are fair game), and can even have OC's. They must, however, contain a dream sequence. This dream sequence does not necessarily have to take up the entire fic (you can have your character be awake at the beginning, or have them simply remember a dream they had in the past), but so long as a dream is present somewhere, the fic will be accepted. :)
If anyone has any questions, please either PM me or post them on my forum, under "Sweet Dreams Collection" (yeah, I slightly changed the title :P)
Have fun! I look forward to seeing what people create. :)
[ - ]
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world and the seven seas
Everybody is looking for something
-"Sweet Dreams" by Eurythmics
[ - ]
Rebecca was drowsy. Sitting in front of her computer screen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she racked her brain for a new fanfiction idea. It would be a Suite Life fanfiction, that much was for sure. But what else? What would it be called? What would it be about? So many ideas raced through her head that she could barely concentrate, but none that she had the will to work on.
This is hopeless, she thought. Usually, she was so innovative—so apt to have spur-of-the-moment epiphanies for writing projects. Why was it that she couldn't have one of them now? She was motivated to write. She wanted to write until all hours of the night and keep going into the morning. She wanted to write fast, without second thought—without worry or strain. But alas...at that very moment, she happened to be ailing from the ever-so-dreaded "writer's block" epidemic that all writers come down with once in a while. It bore down into her head like a virus inside a cell, and there ate away at her muse.
It could be days, weeks, even months, before she returned to normal. It all depended on her resistance.
Rebecca blamed her writer's block on college. Academic, professional writing tended to be a kill-joy to creative writing, and Rebecca was sick of it. She'd done it to the point where it literally induced nausea whenever she looked at a blank Microsoft Word page.
But she wasn't going to let that stop her. She needed to write, and by God she was going to. She just had to think of something. Anything...
She typed a sentence—nothing dramatic or deep, just something to get a few words down—but then groaned in disgust and deleted it. She typed another one, this one longer and little more poetic than the one before, but resolved to delete it as well.
She sighed. Think, Rebecca, think! She urged herself. She found inner encouragement to be most helpful in situations like this. You're the-lovely-anomaly. Now damn it, write something lovely!
She tried to will herself to write—to channel that imaginative part of her that she believed was still in her somewhere, beneath the writer's block. She got up, walked around, went to the kitchen for a drink of water, listened to music videos on YouTube, and then brought up the Word page again. For a moment, she felt refreshed. But not for long. Almost as soon as the feeling came, it vanished. The sight of the blank document was disheartening.
Finally, Rebecca said to herself, "That's it, I give up," and turned her computer off. She decided she was going to sleep for a while and try to come up with something later.
Little did she know that sleep would indeed be the answer to her problem.
So Rebecca turned off her computer and crawled into bed. As she pulled the covers up to just below her neck, she thought about what she would do when she awoke. Definitely not get back on her computer and try to write again—not for a while, anyway. Perhaps clean her room? Heh, yeah right. She couldn't even think that with a straight face. Perhaps start reading a book? Likely. Perhaps watch some TV? Possibly. Perhaps...perhaps...
She dozed off with that word on her mind.
Shortly afterwards, she found herself on a stage. And not just any stage, but a stage situated on the Sky Deck of the fictional cruise liner, the S.S. Tipton. She had no idea how she got there but found it quite amusing—that is, until a spotlight switched on and shown down on her, revealing an audience that she could have sworn had not been there a moment previously.
Almost immediately, she examined her body to make sure she wasn't naked. Relieved to find herself fully clothed, she looked out at the many faces staring at her, smiling sheepishly at the realization that they were waiting for her to do something.
"So..." she finally spoke, trying her best to sound confident even though she was anything but. "How about a joke?"
There was no response from the crowd. Just silence.
She swallowed and licked her lips. "So this guy walks into a bar—"
"What the heck are you doing?" a voice interrupted her from behind.
She jumped and shot her head back towards where it came from and was nearly struck dumb to see none other than Zachary Martin from The Suite Life ascending the stage and coming up next to her.
"What do you mean?" she managed to ask, though it was clear that she was almost too astounded for words. She probably shouldn't have been given where she was, but she couldn't help it; it wasn't every day one got to see a beloved character from Disney Channel.
"You really think these people want to hear jokes?" he said, his voice indicating that he thought the answer was obvious.
She shrugged. "I honestly have no idea what they want."
"They want stories!"
She looked at him blankly. "Stories?"
"Yeah, stories," clarified someone else behind her.
Again, she turned to her head, this time seeing Zack's twin brother, Cody, mounting the stage and approaching her. "You've been 'wowing' people with your original stories," he told her. "Well, they want more."
"But I haven't got any more," Rebecca confessed guiltily, suddenly feeling bad that she had not been able to come up with anything before going to bed.
There was an upheaval of "boo"-s and groans emanating from the audience.
"How can that be possible?" Cody questioned, baffled. "You must have some words left to say."
"Oh, I'm sure I do," Rebecca admitted, "but I don't know where they are right now."
Cody placed his hand over his chest and gasped. "I never thought I would see the day when the-lovely-anomaly lost her words."
"It happens to all writers," Rebecca defended herself. "Even the best ones. It's commonly referred to as 'writer's block.'"
"You know," added the unmistakable voice of Bailey, who was in the midst of making her way to the stage as well, "Writer's block isn't really the inability to write. It's the fear of writing something stupid."
Rebecca considered that. She'd never thought of it that way but it did make sense.
"It's a byproduct of your ego," Bailey continued, standing before her. "You feel like you literally can't write, but really your psyche just isn't letting you."
Rebecca crossed her arms, interested, not even paying attention to the crowd any more. "And how am I supposed to cure that?" she wanted to know.
"Not as simple as it sounds. Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases."
"It's coming to you right now," Cody said.
"What do you mean?"
Rebecca looked at him, wide-eyed and agape. "I'm dreaming?"
"Yeah," he said, "dreaming."
She looked from him to his brother, and then from his brother to Bailey, still amazed.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Zack put in. "I know how much you wish we were real..."
"So..."—she abruptly turned her attention back to Zack—"you're all just in my head? Just mental manifestations of the Suite Life characters?"
She wasn't entirely sure why she'd asked that as the answer was pretty apparent, but she attributed her uncertainty to the realization that she was dreaming. It was a rarity to be aware of dreams while they were happening. Almost psychedelic, in a way.
"Exactly!" Bailey replied to her question. "We're just images that have been stored in your brain."
Rebecca glanced around her, dazed. "This is bizarre!" she exclaimed. "So everything you say is just me speaking to myself?"
"Yeah," Cody said. "Not unlike your stories."
"But...why would I be speaking to myself through you guys?"
"Why not!" came a distinct woman's voice from behind.
Again, Rebecca turned, seeing a lavishly-dressed London Tipton scurrying up the stage steps in glittery high heels.
"We rock," she declared. "Once you see us—especially me—we never leave your head!"
Rebecca had to roll her eyes. Even in her dreams, London was her normal egotistical self.
"I should be a perfect source of inspiration for you," she said confidently.
"Oh really?" Rebecca challenged.
"Well, if seeing me hasn't inspired you to do something with your hideous hair by now, nothing will."
"London!" Bailey scolded her.
"Hey, I happen to like my hair this way," Rebecca said. "Messy is in!"
"In your dreams, maybe."
Rebecca couldn't help giggling at that statement.
"But seriously, though, you don't understand how you're getting inspired right now?" pressed Cody.
Rebecca shrugged. "Sorry...no."
"Sheesh, for someone who tries to be so clever you can be a total dunce!"
"Well then, Cody, please enlighten me." Rebecca put her hands on her hips, daring him. "How is all of this nonsense inspiring, since I seem to be so clueless?"
Cody lifted up his arms and stretched them out from his sides, gesturing to all his surroundings. "You're in a dream!" he exclaimed. "Think, how much inspiration comes from dreams—from the subconscious? Anything can happen; you can go anywhere, be anything, see and do things beyond the boundaries of reality."
"Well, yeah, maybe. But how would that help my writing? Realistic stories have to have some layer of truth to them, which is rarely found in dreams."
"Oh, dreams have plenty of truth," Bailey insisted.
"And even if they didn't," Zack piped in, "who says your stories have to be realistic? Why can't you write an unrealistic story—like a dream story?"
"What?" Rebecca looked at him dubiously.
"A dream story—you know, like a story where a character has a dream."
"That's not a bad idea," declared Cody.
"Whoa, someone pinch me!" Zack said.
"Why?" Rebecca asked.
"Because now I think I might be dreaming. My brother actually liked my idea."
Cody looked at him. "Don't act so surprised."
"Okay, so let's say I write a dream fic," Rebecca continued. "What then?"
"Why are you always so concerned with the aftereffect?" Cody asked. "Why not just focus on the writing itself? See where it takes you. You know, I think that might be why you have so much writer's block all the time; you simply concentrate on the finished product and not the details."
Rebecca opened her mouth to speak, but didn't say anything because she knew that he had a valid point. One thing she lacked when it came to her own writing was patience. The desire to get something finished and posted tended to cloud the writing process, which—she knew full well—was the most important part of writing.
"You know," Bailey said as an idea sprung to her mind, "I wonder what would happen if several Suite Life writers were to write dream fics."
"What do you mean?" inquired Zack.
"I mean, what if not only Rebecca wrote a dream fic, but other writers did too?"
"How would that happen?"
Bailey looked at Rebecca, the wheels in her head turning even faster.
Rebecca, being the dreamer, suddenly knew what she was thinking. And said it out loud: "A dream collection."
Bailey nodded, a smile expanding across the width of her face.
Rebecca smiled in return, loving the idea. "Bailey, you're a genius!" she exclaimed.
"You know, I could see this really going somewhere," interjected Cody. "Dreams are a fantastic phenomenon to ponder, and everyone has them so they're not novel. Plus, they offer the potential of originality—something many fanfictions lack. I, too, would like to see some writers on the Suite Life forum experiment with dream fics. Get them to walk out of realism for once and into the realm of subjectivity."
Bailey, Zack, and London all nodded in agreement.
"So it's settled," Rebecca said. "I'm going to conduct my very own collection."
"Only if you want to," Zack told her. "Remember, collections are a bit different from independent stories. They're not just about imagination and fun; they're about leadership and responsibility. And above all, collaboration."
"I understand," Rebecca assured him. Then smiled in delight. "Ooh, I haven't even started and I'm already excited. Just one question, though."
"What is it?" inquired Bailey.
"How do I wake up?"
Bailey smiled. "Easy. You will yourself awake."
"Um...try pinching yourself. Or slapping yourself. Do something that would jump-start your body."
"Or, here I've got an idea!" London intervened. "How about if I got you to wear my sparkly red slippers and you clicked your heels together? That should send you back."
"London, that's silly. This isn't The Wizard of Oz," Cody said. "It may be a nonsensical dream-world but that doesn't mean clicking her heels will transport her back to reality."
Rebecca held up her arm and pinched it. Nothing happened. She looked at Bailey, waiting for an explanation.
"Those red slippers ain't looking so silly now, are they?" London snarked.
Rebecca tried slapping herself. Nothing.
"Hey, why don't we hit her over the head with a blunt object?" suggested Zack. "That wakes people up in movies."
"Don't you dare!" Rebecca shot back.
Suddenly, Bailey disappeared and came back in a split second with a cup of water. Without a single word she splashed it in Rebecca's face. It didn't work—not completely—but Rebecca did feel the jarring sensation of reality tugging on her. Pulling her closer to wakefulness.
"Frankly, I don't know what to do," Bailey said, her hands going to her hips.
But Rebecca happened upon an idea, and before anyone could stop her or ask her if she was sure about doing something so drastic, she leapt off the stage and dashed over to the railing of the ship. Using her arms and legs as leverage, she hoisted herself up onto it and then—in one fell swoop—forced herself overboard. The second her body collided with the opaque water she awoke and shot up in bed, panting and adrenaline-pumped.
Glancing around, seeing that she was back in her untidy little bedroom in her (even more untidy) little house, she sighed in relief.
It was the middle of the night but she got up anyway, inspired and ready to get her new idea on a roll.