I have had more dreams about Leonard Nimoy (dreams about hanging out with him) than I’ve about any other actor or, indeed, any other human being in my lifetime.

 

In these dreams, we’re always just having conversations about mundane things, nothing worth delineating.

 

But what strikes me is the ease with which I interact with him, and him with me, as if we’re old friends.

 

Brief moments with Leonard Nimoy

1st and 5th images, he’s patiently enduring my “Your Mission” Recording

 

The two times I met him, I wasn’t bowled over (of course, I had met DeForest Kelley three years before that, so I was expecting more interaction and interest, because De had been so approachable, appreciative and friendly and had even launched my writing career by getting my article “The REAL McCoy” published in TV STAR PARADE). In comparison, Leonard seemed busy, preoccupied, and very business-like to me, despite his irresistible smile.  I’m sure he was busy and preoccupied, having just stepped off a plane the first time and, the second time, as he headed into a studio to do a telethon, but the moments seemed perfunctory, not like a real connection.

 

So, maybe these dreams are making up for my misperception of him as a disinterested businessman just doing his best to placate fans.  I still tend to think of him that way  due to my two all-too-brief experiences with him.

 

But he did take the time to listen to my inadvertently sloth-slow original version of “Your Mission” from Mission: Impossible. The audio recorder was half-frozen due to the weather and squeaked out my carefully-constructed “mission” for him. He endured that and said it was very clever.  (The mission was to get my friend and me into the studio to watch the telethon from there. He smiled and said he wished he could but that the TV station decided who got in, not him.)

 

Two nights ago, I had one of the longest dreams about him. He showed up in the same place I was.

 

I spotted him, but didn’t approach him.  But then he spotted me and approached me, mentioning that he was very appreciative of what I’d done for De at the end of his life.

 

Leonard hugging De at De’s star ceremony Dec.18, 1991 (photo c. Kris M. Smith)

I thanked him for that and we started chatting about other stuff.

 

Then it occurred to me that he might not have been aware that I was also a contributing member of his fan club publication, and that I had written articles for it and even done one or two covers for it.

 

I asked him if the publication was still running, and he said it wasn’t.  I was about to mention that some of my creative work appeared in and on it, because I wanted him to know I was a fan of his, too, but then I thought that might not be a big deal to him and, if I mentioned it, it might not be a plus.

 

Why not?

 

I theorized that he might want to chat with me chiefly because I wasn’t a fan, so we could talk about things other than his career. (Most fans want to talk about actors’ careers with them. I never did that with De unless he brought up the subject, and I think that’s one of the things he felt was refreshing about me. When he did bring up his career, it was nearly always about westerns he did, not Star Trek.)

 

Leonard and I were having a wide-ranging conversation and I didn’t want to derail it by inserting the fact that I was a fan of his, too. But he must have known because I knew so much about his family. I asked about Julie and Adam, and he updated me on their lives. We discussed critters and photography, since we both love animals and images.

 

It was just another of the many dreams I’ve had about him.  I don’t know if I’m getting celestial visits from him, making up for lost time and a misperception on my part, or if it’s just my mind self-correcting to show me he would have been more engaged had there been sufficient time or opportunity.

 

Anyway, I love the guy and I’m amazed he keeps popping into my dreams.

 

Perhaps a dream deferred can’t be deferred forever.  That’s a lovely thought, isn’t it?