The DREAM WORLD Series
DAYDREAM REALITY

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----- Prologue -----
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This is NUTS! Aaron thought as he took in his surroundings. What a difference a week makes. While he had known that he was "in the hunt" for the role of Micky Dolenz in the new VH1 movie based on the lives of The Monkees, he had figured the time had already elapsed for him to get "the call". Because of this, when he had received that call from his agent, he had practically dropped the phone in shock. Not as much because he was excited to get the part, (well, he was, but that was beside the point), but when he heard exactly how much time he had to prepare for the role, he almost passed out.

"Three days. One measly weekend." He muttered. And boy, had he crammed in that amount of time. He hadn't had to do that much cramming since High School. He had to learn this guy's mannerisms, personality, and on top of all that-- convincingly mime playing the drums. It was kind of ironic when he thought about it, because the real Micky hadn't been a drummer going into The Monkees experience either.

Ah well. That little inner voice said again. You couldn't ice skate when you did "The Mighty Ducks" either... but you figured that one out, didn't you? You'll be fine.

Just then his car pulled up to the gates. The first thing he noticed was the buzz in the air. To call it intense would be an understatement. It wasn't like he hadn't seen this before, though. Most movie sets were exactly like this, right? Right.

The usual cacophony of sound met his ears as he stepped out of his car. There were people rushing around left and right, organizing and reorganizing every little detail around them. Little things met his ears.... orders shouted from across the lot... people debating the merits of takeout Chinese for lunch... and an elderly couple arguing. Yessir, it was just your regular movie set.

"You said you loved me!" He heard the old man plead as he rushed by. Ah, some things in Hollywood never change. She probably found some pretty boy who wanted to marry her for her money or something. So it was a cliché, but cliché’s had to start somewhere, didn't they?

"Mr. Lohr! Welcome to the set!" A perky assistant raced up to him with a clipboard chock full of papers. "Sorry about the mess. We're still getting our preverbal feet on the ground here. We'll straighten it all out though. Nothing to worry about."

Aaron laughed inwardly. Who was this girl trying to reassure? Him, or herself? "Glad to be aboard. Now where to first?"

And with that one small question, a tidal wave of information burst forth upon him. She presented him with lists of stuff. Wardrobe, hair and makeup schedules...

You'll be fine. He repeated, brain spinning with all the information.

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Oh, I could hide 'neath the wings
Of the bluebird as it sings
The six o'clock alarm would never ring...

George Stanchev sat back on his bed which had been placed awkwardly against the far wall of the trailer. As Davy Jones crooned from the speakers of George's CD player, he couldn't help but sing along a little. He'd only been LIVING and BREATHING this song since the day his agent had called with the news that he had won the part of David Jones in "Daydream Believers: The Monkees Story". He figured that was excuse enough for listening to, let alone singing along with, a band that carried with it the label of "uncool" or "nostalgic" at best, in today's teen circuit. Safer ground would have been N*SYNC or The Backstreet Boys, he realized, but it didn't bother him. This music wasn't half bad really. It had an oldies flavor to it, but that was alright. Retro was in again, afterall.

Cheer up Sleepy Jean
Oh what can it mean
To a Daydream Believer
And a homecoming queen

Put simply, this was the best thing to happen to him in quite a long time, actually. In his own solo career he had prayed for the success that so many others had achieved. Oh, he knew the statistics. He knew how many DIDN'T make it, but he was determined that as long as he remained optimistic and enjoyed what he was doing, he could make the whole Hollywood thing work for him.

A quick glance up at the clock revealed what he had already felt in his gut. If he didn't leave right now, he was going to be late for the wardrobe fitting. "Sorry, Davy." He clicked off the CD player. "Gotta go now. Be being you soon!" He laughed at the joke and headed outside.

Bounding down the steps, he was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't notice when another guy rounded the corner, arms loaded down with material. Heads down, neither was aware of the other's presence until they crashed into one another.

"Sorry!" George rushed to apologize, scooping up the contents of a file folder and scrambling back to his feet at the same time. The other man held up a hand in protest.

"It's alright. I wasn't paying attention." He shook his head in frustration. "Where are you heading?"

"Wardrobe." Realizing they hadn't really been introduced, George quickly put his hand out. "I'm sorry, we haven't met. I'm George Stanchev."

"Aaron Lohr." The young man shook George's hand warmly. "Hey... I saw your name on the cast list, didn't I?"

"Yeah. Davy Jones." He smiled.

Laughing, Aaron readjusted the strap of his shoulder bag. "Looks like we'll be spending a lot of time together, George."

"How's that?"

"Micky Dolenz."

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"Yeah, mom. I will." LB Fisher ran a hand through his short, spiky blonde hair. "Yes. I'll make sure you get to see the publicity photos the moment they come back. Don't worry!"

LB’s mother had always been a HUGE fan of The Monkees, and to say that she was excited to know that her son was portraying Peter, who happened to be her favorite Monkee, was like saying that a tsunami was just a little splash.

Oh yeah. No pressure here. LB said to himself.

He and his sister had grown up watching old Monkees reruns, so he was just about as pumped up as his mother to be doing this movie. Not every person got the chance to portray someone he had practically idolized as a child. Peter was his favorite for so many reasons. When he was little, he had looked upon Peter as a role model. The guy was always smiling, and could play a million instruments. Now that LB was older, he could appreciate the deeper side of Peter as well. This was the side of the man that the audience never got to see. The side that chafed at always having to play the dummy, and the side that stood behind Mike when the Monkees decided that they could play their own music. The side that this script had so wisely included and had instilled him with the belief that he absolutely HAD to do this movie.

It hadn't been too hard to get his hands on Monkees material. He really didn't have to go much farther than his collection of childhood items. His mom's records, comic books, teen magazines... the list went on and on! With the studio supplying him with tapes of episodes, CD's and the movie "Head", he felt as if he were swimming in Monkees memorabilia.

During this intense period of character analysis, he had also taken the liberty of specifically studying and mimicking Peter's laid back smile. After days of staring at himself in the mirror, he felt he had finally gotten it right.

When time finally rolled around to go to wardrobe, he rushed out the door, taking the steps two at a time. I AM ready for this! He said to himself reassuringly.

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Another job. Ah, it felt so good to be employed. Jeff Geddis had gone to audition after audition lately, and nothing had panned out until now. Oh sure, he'd been pretty successful since graduating from York University, having landed a role in "Exhibit A" and doing several commercial spots, but this was probably one of the largest roles he'd landed in awhile.

Awhile? Try EVER. He thought to himself with a shake of his head. Acting was definitely no 9-5 job with a weekly paycheck to look foreward to. But who was he to complain? He'd known what he was getting himself into when he had walked away from eight years of competitive swimming. At least, that's what he believed the day he climbed out of the pool for the last time. And you thought you were swimming in deep water before. It was really kinda ironic when you thought about it.

He probably would have continued on with this train of thought forever if it wasn't for the sudden burst of beeping from his wristwatch. Wardrobe call. With a sigh, he stood up and headed over to the mirror for a quick touch up before heading out.

The guy who stared back at him already looked like he was straight out of the 60's. Either that or someone who refused to believe that punk rock was dead and not about to come back any time soon. If it wasn't for the sake of the part, he would have never in a million years grown his hair this long. Just the unpleasant way it tickled the back of his neck made him wonder how the guys back then could stand it.

There was no more time for a then and now comparison at the moment, though. It was time to jump headlong into the past. The girls, the drugs, the age of "love and peace". More importantly, it was the age of The Monkees.

Wonder if they'll let me keep the tuque...

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You know, when your eyes are closed, it's really... dark. Aaron found himself musing. Oh boy. That's it, pal. You've had enough hairspray and makeup fumes. Some of that stuff must be seeping right through your scalp and into your brain.

He had have been sitting in the makeup chair for close to an hour now. Standard procedure, of course, but no matter how many movies one did, "The Chair" was still boring as heck. The flip side was he had plenty of time to go over his lines in his head, but his brain was still too clogged up with having met the other guys and the crew. Not to mention spending a good solid hour with the wardrobe supervisor. Who had time to even think about lines right now?

"Alright, that's it." The makeup artist said, punctuating his sentence with the click of a case being closed.

Finally. Aaron tossed the towel off from around his neck and turned to face the mirror.

And there was Micky Dolenz staring back at him. The fuzzy moptop of hair, the sideburns, the red, eight button shirt-- every detail was perfect. No problem getting into character now... He grinned in anticipation. Overwhelmed with curiosity by this point, he couldn't wait to see the other guys.

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"Alright, wool hat. Out you go." Jeff said to the image looking back at him from the mirror. It was endlessly fascinating to see how different someone could look with a wig and some makeup touches here and there. Oh, it probably wasn't quite as amazing to someone who'd been acting their entire life, but having started the Hollywood rollercoaster ride in his late teens, and consequentially much later than many of the people he worked with, he still got a little thrill each time he played a new character.

Of all the characters though, Michael Nesmith was stood apart from the rest. Obviously, it had something to do with the fact that many of the characters he had portrayed were merely fictitious, and Mike was a real guy. The six foot tall Texan carried an aura of intimidation wherever he went, and Jeff almost felt himself taking on some of that personality. He felt a little taller and a little more in charge now. Plus, it would be really cool when his friends visited the set and saw him in this getup. Vain. I know. He thought.

Stepping out into the hallway, he immediately was aware of two things. One, as he walked by, people would stop dead in their tracks just long enough to stare a bit. What? Never seen a Monkee before? He laughed inwardly. Two, there was a TV crew talking with the director. "ET" was clearly labeled on the side of one of the cameras.

"Media circus, 'ere I come." He tried the Texas drawl on for size. It sounded a lot better coming out of his mouth now than it had sitting at home in his T-shirt and jeans, reading through the script.

" This ah private pahty, or can anyone join in?" A person who had snuck up behind him joked in an unmistakable English accent. He whirled around to face Davy.... er, George.

"Hey! Not half bad." Jeff grinned. "You sure you weren't born in England?"

George dropped the accent in a flash. "Nope. Went to an English boarding school for awhile though. Just imitating the way my friends would talk. Speaking of which, you sure you're not really from Texas?"

Both laughed.

Just then, the door to LB's dressing room opened and the actor stepped out, still adjusting his belt buckle. Gone was his spiky blonde hair, concealed neatly beneath a blonde wig that reached down just below his ears. Both George and Jeff took the obligatory moment to observe the overall appearance of the third member of their faux-Monkees troop before LB could catch sight of them.

"Hey!!" LB gave his best Peter smile once he'd looked up and seen 'Mike' and 'Davy'. "Oh man. You guys look great."

"Fab." A fourth voice chimed in to correct him. No surprise, this voice belonged to Aaron, their 'Micky', who had just popped out of his respective dressing room.

All four of the players were in place, and while they all admired their 'bandmates', the Entertainment Tonight cameras slid into position to capture the moment. Moving fast, the guys formed a Monkee Moshpit of hugs and slaps on the back. And all four minds were thinking along the same line: This is already definitely not like any other movie I've ever done before..

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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!