Author: Ken Sheetz

Screenwriter, Filmmaker

XMAS SHORE LEAVE – AN ORIGINAL STAR TREK FAN TRIBUTE

On By Ken SheetzIn Star Trek Fan TributesLeave a comment

Story & Plot: Ken Sheetz
Dialogue & Formatting: Ken Sheetz assisted by ChatGPT

A non-commercial Star Trek fan fiction tribute, complete with tribute commercial breaks. Written with my deep respect for Star Trek, Gene Roddenberry, Lucille Ball, and the original series cast and crew.

TITLE SHOT

XMAS SHORE LEAVE

ACT 1

FADE IN:

EXT. SPACE — THE U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

The Enterprise glides through a shimmering blue-white nebula, her hull catching the soft, prismatic light of 3i/Atlas, sparkling like a giant ornament suspended in space.

KIRK (V.O.) — CAPTAIN’S LOG

Captain’s log, Stardate 1709.3. After a recent transporter malfunction gave me the worst case of split personality any captain could hope to survive… the Enterprise is en route to Earth. Lieutenant Uhura has arranged an unprecedented gathering—families of the crew assembled for a Christmas celebration at Earth’s North Pole.
(beat)
Starfleet calls it morale. I call it… overdue.

INT. ENTERPRISE — KIRK’S QUARTERS

KIRK stands at his desk, turning an old handmade Earth ornament in his fingers.

WHOOSH.
The door opens.

SPOCK enters, rigid, troubled.

SPOCK
Captain. I must formally object to attending this sentimental holiday gathering of an outdated ritual.

KIRK
Good morning to you too, Mister Spock.

SPOCK
I insist on remaining aboard the Enterprise with a skeleton crew while you and the others visit your families for the Xmas party.

Kirk turns, studying him.

KIRK
Spock… you’re six months into a five-year mission. And, well—you’re um—

WHOOSH.

MCCOY enters mid-sentence.

MCCOY
—I believe the phrase you’re lookin’ for, Jim, is “socially awkward.”

Spock stiffens.

SPOCK
Doctor, I fail to see the need to mock my distaste for human’s dependence on familial love.

MCCOY
—You never do.

KIRK
Bones.

MCCOY
What? The man treats Christmas like a communicable disease.

SPOCK
That is inaccurate. I merely find the holiday… inefficient.

KIRK
Inefficient?

SPOCK
An elderly human distributing gifts via non-logical means. A pine tree indoors. And a birth celebration shared by unrelated mythological figures. What does a baby Jesus and a white bearded man in a sleigh have in common?

McCoy points at Spock with his thumb as he gripes to Kirk.

MCCOY
See? Already missing the point.

Kirk steps closer, gentler.

KIRK
Spock… this isn’t about Santa or theology. It’s about people remembering who they are when they’re not wearing uniforms.

Spock considers.

SPOCK
Vulcans do not celebrate—

MCCOY
—Joy. We know.

A beat.

KIRK
Lieutenant Uhura has arranged a cultural research exhibit.

Spock’s eyebrow lifts.

SPOCK
Define “research exhibit.”

KIRK
(smiling)
A Santa Claus android.

Silence.

SPOCK
…I will require direct observation.

MCCOY
Hook, line, and mistletoe.

KIRK
Pack a parka, gentlemen.

EXT. EARTH — NORTH POLE — DAY

Brightly decorated to respect all faiths we see a Federation installation, half research station, half winter festival. Snow drifts gently. Laughter fills the air.

MONTAGE — “HAPPY HOLIDAYS AMONG THE STARS”

  • UHURA ice skates through the gathering, greeting families of many religions in many languages.
  • SULU skates badly with cousins, laughing harder than anyone.
  • SCOTTY introduces his mother to the transporter room with visible terror.
  • CHEKOV, no family, sadly watches other crew and families reunite… until MCCOY’S SOUTHERN FAMILY sweeps him in.

MCCOY’S MOTHER
You eat. You’re too thin.

CHEKOV
…Da?

McCoy watches, softened.

INT. NORTH POLE FESTIVAL — KIRK FAMILY QUARTERS

A modest but warm space. A small tree. Old Earth photographs. Snow taps softly at the window.

GEORGE KIRK (early 60s, steady, thoughtful) pours coffee.
WINONA KIRK (warm, perceptive) adjusts decorations.
GEORGE SAMUEL KIRK JR. (late 30s, grounded, wry) looks up as the door opens.

KIRK enters with SPOCK.

For a half-beat, Kirk isn’t a captain — he’s a son.

KIRK
Mom. Dad.
This is Commander Spock… my First Officer.

Spock inclines his head.

SPOCK
It is a pleasure to meet you.

George Jr. steps forward first, offering a hand.

GEORGE SAMUEL KIRK JR.
Jim’s said a lot about you.
(pauses, smiles)
Most of it flattering. That’s how I know it must be true.

Spock blinks, surprised, then accepts the handshake.

SPOCK
Your assessment is… appreciated.

Winona studies Spock with gentle curiosity.

WINONA KIRK
You’re welcome here, Commander.
Anyone who keeps my son alive out there…
(smiles)
…is already family.

Spock stiffens slightly at the word family.

George Kirk watches Jim — proud, quietly.

GEORGE KIRK
James always had trouble slowing down.
I imagine you help with that.

SPOCK
I attempt to mitigate unnecessary risk.

Kirk grins.

KIRK
He means he saves my life on a regular basis.

A small, uncomfortable beat.

Winona pours tea for Spock, hands it to him.

WINONA KIRK
And your family, Commander?
Your mother… is she not joining us today?

The room stills.

Spock straightens, defensive without raising his voice.

SPOCK
My mother resides on Vulcan.
Her presence here would be… impractical.

Kirk senses it immediately.

KIRK
Mom—

Winona gently raises a hand, unoffended.

WINONA KIRK
I didn’t mean to pry.

Spock exhales — barely.

SPOCK
She is human.
(pauses)
Her absence is… logical.

George Jr. clocks the tension.

GEORGE SAMUEL KIRK JR.
Well, then it’s good you’re here.

Spock looks at him.

GEORGE SAMUEL KIRK JR. (cont.)
Nobody should have to explain where they come from…
just to belong.

Spock considers this — longer than usual.

SPOCK
…That is a generous interpretation.

Winona smiles softly.

WINONA KIRK
Christmas tends to bring those out.

She gestures to the tree.

WINONA KIRK (cont.)
Sit. All of you.
Before the universe needs saving again.

They sit.

For a moment, no ranks. No missions.

Just people.

Kirk catches Spock’s eye — grateful.

Spock gives the smallest nod.

INT. FESTIVAL HALL — SANTA ANDROID DISPLAY

The SANTA ANDROID distributes gifts with flawless precision.

A despondent Spock circles it as Kirk looks on.

SANTA ANDROID

Ho, Ho, Ho! Merry Christmas, Officer Spock.

SPOCK
Curious. How do you know my name?

SANTA ANDROID

I know when you’ve sleeping. I know when you’re awake. I certainly your name as well as everyone else in the Federation. Merry Christmas, Captain Kirk.

KIRK
Ho, ho, ho back at you.

SPOCK
I find it deeply disturbing that an Android knows the names of every Federation citizen and their behavior, both good and bad. What if this artificial Santa fell into enemy hands?

SANTA ANDROID

In such a case I am programmed to self destruct!

SPOCK
Insufficient.

As if on cue a red alert sounds.

RED ALERT

KLINGON TRANSPORT SIGNATURES FLASH.

KLINGON WARRIORS materialize. Panic.

A KLINGON COMMANDER grabs KIRK’S MOTHER, disruptor raised.

KLINGON COMMANDER
James Kirk. Turn over your Santa — disarmed… or your Earth rituals end here.

Kirk freezes.

Spock steps forward.

SPOCK
Emotion now would be… inefficient.

MCCOY
For once, I agree.

Kirk meets his mother’s eyes. She nods.

KIRK
You picked the wrong planet… and the wrong holiday.

FADE OUT.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

CHEVROLET — 1967

Black and white. A Chevy pulls into a snowy driveway.

ANNOUNCER:
This Christmas, give your family confidence.
Power you can trust. Comfort you can feel.
Chevrolet. Putting you on the road… to a brighter tomorrow.

ACT II

INT. FESTIVAL HALL — CONTINUOUS

Klingons hold civilians at disruptor-point.

SPOCK steps forward.

SPOCK
Your actions violate Klingon Honor Code, Section Twelve.

KLINGON COMMANDER
There is no honor in human weakness.

A frightened CHILD drops a snowball.

Kirk scoops one up—THUMP—into a Klingon’s chest.

MCCOY
Jim… please tell me you have a plan.

A snowball flies back.

Suddenly—
A SNOWBALL FIGHT ERUPTS.

Laughter. Shock.

A snowball hits Spock.

He looks at it… then throws one back. Perfect.

The room ROARS.

The Commander raises his blade.

KLINGON COMMANDER
Enough!

Silence.

KIRK
I give you a choice.

SPOCK
Klingon tradition permits contests of skill in place of bloodshed.

KIRK
A race. Rocket sleds. To the true North Pole.
No weapons. No hostages.

KLINGON COMMANDER
And the prize?

KIRK
You win—you get what you came for.
We win—you leave Earth. Forever.

A beat.

KLINGON COMMANDER
Prepare your sleds.

FADE TO BLACK

COMMERCIAL BREAK

PEPSI — “COME ALIVE!”

Fast cuts. Laughter. Bottles popping.

ANNOUNCER:
This holiday season… come alive with Pepsi.

ACT III

EXT. ARCTIC EXPANSE — DAY

Two ROCKET SLEDS idle at the start line.

MCCOY (O.S.)
If you die on Christmas, I am never forgiving you!

KIRK
Fair.

KLINGON COMMANDER
Begin!

The sleds LAUNCH.

THE RACE

The Klingon sled surges ahead, engines screaming.

SPOCK
Their engines are operating beyond safe parameters.

KIRK
They like to win loud.

A massive ICE RIDGE looms ahead.

The Klingons veer around it the long way.

Spock studies the ice… then Kirk.

SPOCK
The challenge prohibits weapons against opponents.
It does not prohibit… terrain modification.

Kirk grins.

KIRK
How fast can you make a door?

Spock raises his PHASER.

SPOCK
Approximately three seconds.

A precise PHASER BEAM carves a glowing TUNNEL THROUGH THE ICEBERG.

Steam. Blue light.

Kirk steers straight in.

INT. ICE TUNNEL — CONTINUOUS

The sled rockets through shimmering ice walls.

KIRK
Remind me never to play chess with you again.

SPOCK
Noted.

They burst out the far side—

EXT. TRUE NORTH POLE — MOMENTS LATER

Kirk stops at precise coordinates.

Spock steps off, plants a FEDERATION MARKER.

SPOCK
Position confirmed. True geomagnetic North.

The Klingons arrive moments later, stunned.

KLINGON COMMANDER
You cheated.

SPOCK
Negative. We innovated.

Kirk steps forward.

KIRK
You challenged us to reach the Pole.
We did.
First.

The Commander exhales.

KLINGON COMMANDER
…Victory without combat.

(beat)

KLINGON COMMANDER
You understand honor… dangerously well.

The Klingons TRANSPORT OUT.

EXT. NORTH POLE — LATER

The party resumes.

Chekov eats with McCoy’s family.

Spock studies the Santa android again.

SPOCK
Generosity appears to strengthen group cohesion.

KIRK
That’s the secret.

The android hands Spock a gift.

A ROCKET SLED ORNAMENT.

Spock pockets it.

MCCOY
I told you. Contagious.

BUTTON

INT. ENTERPRISE — BRIDGE

Stars stretch.

KIRK (V.O.) — CAPTAIN’S LOG
Stardate 1709.9. Christmas reminded us that strength is not what we take… but what we protect.

Kirk notices the ornament hanging discreetly near Spock’s console.

KIRK
Mister Spock… how was your first Christmas?

Spock considers.

SPOCK
Illogical.
(beat)
But… satisfactory.

MCCOY
Great. Next year he’ll be caroling.

Kirk leans back, smiling.

KIRK
Merry Christmas, gentlemen.

FADE OUT.

END

FINAL CARD

With Deep Gratitude

This tribute honors Lucille Ball, whose courage and vision helped bring Star Trek to life—
a future where racism, sexism, and greed no longer define humanity,
and where cooperation, curiosity, and compassion lead the way.

Live long and prosper in whatever way you celebrate the holidays.

Learn more about Ken’s 3i/Atlas slate at Overactive Imagination Pictures.

Cosmic Semi

Re-connection In the DreamShield

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, Ken Sheetz, love, Ohom, Politics, Spirit RecvoeryLeave a comment

Last night I had an extraordinary dream about my estranged daughter, Janelle — the second powerful dream of her I’ve had recently. This one left me overflowing with joy and a quiet, astonishing hope. It felt important to record it here, for myself and for readers who might be navigating similar family fractures or longing for reconciliation.

For context: Janelle was only ten when her mother and I went our separate ways. Becoming a weekend Disneyland Dad was the hardest transition of my life. I did my best, but the distance that forms in those situations — physical, emotional, spiritual — is real and it takes its toll.

Our final break came much later, when she was 31, during a difficult time for my family. My brother was hospitalized, and I became angry when Janelle didn’t want to visit him. In hindsight, my anger was misplaced. He had behaved horribly to her once, on her eighth birthday, and she owed him nothing. My reaction created a rift neither of us has bridged for fourteen years.

All that is the past. Last night’s dream felt like a glimpse of a possible future — one filled with warmth, forgiveness, and the spark of reconnection.

The Dream

I was hiking through a vast parking lot at dusk, the last light of the sun melting behind the horizon. Ahead of me sat a convertible semi-truck cab — top down — with a cosmic paint job swirling like a living galaxy.

From my low angle, I recognized someone in the back seat.

“Janelle?” I called softly.

She hesitated — torn — before her husband Jason asked, “Who’s asking?”

“Her father,” I replied.

Before he could say another word, Janelle answered, “It’s me. I’m coming down.”

She stepped from the truck with a wistful smile, years of distance and love braided together on her face. When she opened her arms, I stepped into an embrace I’ve waited fourteen years for.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered.

“Me too,” she said — a sigh that carried healing.

“Any kids?” I asked.

“A son. Marty.” She pointed toward a seven-year-old playing with other children. He had an unusual hook-shaped nose with a yellow-green tip, but I didn’t comment — only thought maybe that was something I could help her fix someday.

He looked up at me curiously. “Who are you?”

“Your grandfather,” I said proudly.

“What’s a grandfather?” he asked.

“The father before your father,” I told him. “A grand one.”

Janelle chuckled — and just hearing her laugh again, even in a dream, was a gift.

When I woke, the clock glowed 3:30 AM — my old Antarctica alarm clock still ticking faithfully after all these years. Elizabeth was sound asleep. I held the dream to my heart for an hour before sharing it with her at dawn.

ChatGPT Dream Analysis

To gain some distance I asked ChatGPT to explore the deeper meaning of this dream. What follows is its interpretation, which resonated with me:

1. Dusk and the Parking Lot — A Liminal Space

Dusk is the threshold between clarity and mystery.
A parking lot is a place of pause, not permanence.

Together they signal:
You are in a transitional moment with Janelle.
A chapter where something new can begin.

2. The Cosmic Convertible Semi — A Vehicle of Destiny

A semi truck symbolizes strength, endurance, and long-haul journeys.
A convertible symbolizes openness.
The cosmic paint job symbolizes DreamShield energy — guidance, timing, alignment.

This suggests that your reconnection may not come from force, but from timing and openness guided by something larger than both of you.

3. Janelle’s Hesitation — And Her Choice

Her torn look reflects her real internal conflict — longing mixed with fear.

Jason’s protective “Who’s asking?” embodies past boundaries and old wounds.

But grace enters here:

Janelle overrides him.
She chooses connection.

“I’m coming down” symbolizes stepping down from emotional distance into equal ground.

4. The Embrace — Pure Heart

Dream embraces bypass ego entirely. They are emotional truth.

Her sighing “Me too” is your psyche showing you the possibility — and desire — for reconciliation.

5. Marty — The Lineage Reawakening

His unusual nose is symbolic, not literal:

  • Yellow-green: healing, growth, renewal
  • Hook shape: something catching and pulling you into family again

Your instinct to “help fix it’’ reflects your desire to heal the generational storyline.

His innocence — “What’s a grandfather?” — gives you the chance to reclaim your role with humor and warmth.

6. Waking at 3:30 AM — The Hour of Intuition

This is when the subconscious speaks loudest.

Your Antarctic clock links this dream to the spiritual clarity you gained on 12.12.12 — the sense that the universe sometimes speaks in symbols, timing, and dreams.

The Deeper Meaning

According to the interpretation, this dream reflects:

  • your readiness for forgiveness
  • your longing to heal generational wounds
  • your hope for reconnection
  • Janelle’s place returning to the center of your inner world
  • the possibility — not fantasy — of real-world reunion

It is a dream not of memory, but of potential.

The message beneath it:

“Prepare your heart.
The story with Janelle is not over.”

From Personal Healing to National Healing

And I’m back. As I sat with this dream, I realized something deeper:
the reconnection I hope for with my daughter mirrors the reconnection hope of many of us our country.

We are a nation estranged from ourselves.
MAGA and liberal America have become like family members who no longer speak, who assume the worst, who carry old wounds in silence.

But if a father and daughter separated for fourteen years can find their way back to one another — even in the symbolic landscape of a dream — then maybe a country can too.

Dreams show what the heart still believes is possible.

And my heart believes reconciliation — personal and political — is still within reach.

May we all find our way back to each other.
One embrace at a time.

Especially for me and Janelle who is an amazing huger and who I badly want Elizabeth to meet.

Elizabeth for the $723 Million Save

On By Ken SheetzIn Elizabeth England, Ken SheetzLeave a comment

Last night at AFM — presenting my SUMMER RULES before 250 film indistry people — reminded me why filmmaking is never a solo sport.

Elizabeth and I were rolling into our SUMMER RULES presentation, with Elizabeth sharing how Largo AI, host of the AFM event, projects our tender romantic adventure that takes place the summer of 2002 about a couple who meet in group therapy for dealing with losing a spouse on 9/121 looks to gross $723 million with 83% confidence — a stat so wild and wonderful the audience actually gasped.

And just as I repeated the amazing $723 blockbuster data discovery, right on that gasp — BAM — the hall doors blew open at the back of the gathering and a cluster of young peeps tumbled in giggling like they’d wandered into the wrong universe.

It threw me off just enough that my next line evaporated mid-air. I’d joked to Elizabeth the night before that the Largo number was all we needed to say… and maybe I jinxed myself by planting that seed, because that’s exactly where everything went sideways.

But this is where the magic of partnership kicked in.

Before the moment could tip awkward, I turned to Elizabeth with a shrug and said, “Babe, I got nothing.” Without skipping a beat Elizabeth stepped up with total grace, caught the flow of the pitch, “Summer Rules is a tender romantic adventure set in the summer of 2002…” and handed it back to me next line like we’d rehearsed the interruption. Finding my footing again I went back on script with how pleased I was that Largo confirmed what the great Ed Asner multiple Golden Globe and Emmy winner once told that Summer Rule was one of best screenplays he’d ever read.

One smooth save leading to a smooth recovery — the kind that only happens when you’ve done life and art together long enough to read each other’s energy in real time.

We finished strong. Stronger than if the moment had gone flawlessly.
Because the room didn’t just see two filmmakers pitching a movie.
They saw a team.

At the after-party, people kept coming up to say it: the stumble and $723 million discovery wasn’t what stood out — the recovery did. The way Elizabeth caught the beat. The way we kept going. The way we supported each other. That, they said, told them everything they needed to know about what kind of filmmakers we are.

So today, I’m grateful.
Grateful for AFM.
Grateful for a room full of good energy.
Grateful that even a rogue door explosion couldn’t shake us.
And especially grateful for Elizabeth — my producing partner, my cosmic co-captain, and the steady hand that turns chaos into story, my wife

Onward.

— Ken Sheetz

Can we just have a nice 3i/Atlas comet experience?

3i/Atlas Bringer of the New!

On By Ken SheetzIn 3i/Atlas, coolest meditation ever, Planetary Meditations, Trump's Fever DreamLeave a comment

Picasso said, “Everything you can imagine is real.” We choose to take that as a challenge—not to repeat the madness of Hale-Bopp death cults, but to claim imagination for good. With 3i Atlas blazing through our solar system, we see not doom but a harbinger of a new love movement. Let’s meditate up something big and beautiful for our weary world. Presenting CAN WE JUST HAVE A NICE 3i/ATLAS COMET EXPERIENCE?

The 3i/Atlas facts so far via Wikipedia:

3I/ATLAS, also known as C/2025 N1 (ATLAS) and previously as A11pl3Z, is an interstellar comet[16][17] discovered by the Asteroid Terrestrial-impact Last Alert System (ATLAS) station at Río Hurtado, Chile on 1 July 2025. When it was discovered, it was entering the inner Solar System at a distance of 4.5 AU (670 million km; 420 million mi) from the Sun. The comet follows an unbound, hyperbolic trajectory past the Sun with a very fast hyperbolic excess velocity of 58 km/s (36 mi/s) relative to the Sun.[5][c] 3I/ATLAS will not come closer than 1.8 AU (270 million km; 170 million mi) from Earth, so it poses no threat.[18] It is the third interstellar object confirmed passing through the Solar System, after 1I/ʻOumuamua (discovered in October 2017) and 2I/Borisov (discovered in August 2019),[19] hence the prefix “3I”.

3I/ATLAS is an active comet consisting of a solid icy nucleus and a coma, which is a cloud of gas and icy dust escaping from the nucleus. The size of 3I/ATLAS’s nucleus is uncertain because its light cannot be separated from that of the coma.[20] The Sun is responsible for the comet’s activity because it heats up the comet’s nucleus to sublimate its ice into gas, which outgasses and lifts up dust from the comet’s surface to form its coma.[21] Images by the Hubble Space Telescope suggest that the diameter of 3I/ATLAS’s nucleus is between 0.32 and 5.6 km (0.2 and 3.5 mi), with the most likely diameter being less than 1 km (0.62 mi).[12] Observations by the James Webb Space Telescope have shown that 3I/ATLAS is unusually rich in carbon dioxide and contains a small amount of water ice, water vapor, carbon monoxide, and carbonyl sulfide.[22] Observations by the Very Large Telescope have also shown that 3I/ATLAS is emitting cyanide gas and atomic nickel vapor at concentrations similar to those seen in Solar System comets.[23]

3I/ATLAS will come closest to the Sun on 29 October 2025, at a distance of 1.36 AU (203 million km; 126 million mi) from the Sun, which is between the orbits of Earth and Mars.[10] The comet appears to have originated from either the Milky Way’s thin disk or thick disk;[24] if 3I/ATLAS originated from the thick disk, the comet could be at least 7 billion years old—older than the Solar System.[25][8]

Created by Ken Sheetz for the TrumpsFeverDream.com project using ElevenLabs new music cloudware.

Superman

SUPERMAN – A Star‑Spangled Banner Must‑See

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, Planetary MeditationsLeave a comment

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ DreamShieldPlanetary.com SUPERMAN Review

Some films are just entertainment. Superman is something more—a five‑star, star‑spangled banner must‑see that taps straight into the heart of who we wanted to be as kids and who we can still become.

Back in 2010, during a SoulDrama workshop in Italy, Connie Miller—our inspired guide—asked each of us:
“Who was your childhood hero?”

The room lit up with answers:
✨ Wonder Woman!
✨ I Dream of Jeannie!
✨ Batman!
✨ and more…

When it came to me, I didn’t even have to think: Superman.

Not because he could fly or bend steel, but because he was invulnerable to the kind of pain my drill sergeant dad dished out when I was a boy.

In that meditation, I saw myself as Superman, wrapping Earth in a shimmering DreamShield of light. That vision became the seed of the meditations we share here at DreamShieldPlanetary.com.

Rewatching Superman today, I’m struck by how his greatest nemesis, Lex Luthor, feels more relevant than ever. Luthor isn’t just a comic book villain—he’s the archetype of the self‑obsessed billionaire who believes his wealth entitles him to rule. Watch closely and you’ll see shades of Trump in his smug manipulation, of Musk in his reckless ego, even of Bezos in that endless hunger for power and control. Superman’s battles with Luthor aren’t fantasy—they’re a mirror of our world right now.

And here’s the deeper truth: Superman isn’t weak because he’s kind—he’s strong because he is. Like the compassionate Jesus, prophet or son of God, he shows us that compassion isn’t surrender; it’s the most powerful force we have.

To my friends and family on the MAGA side (yes I still have some)—give this film a chance with an open heart. Step past the GOP culture wars seeking to turn you into a tool for Lex Luthor for two hours and witness a story about hope, courage, and doing what’s right. Superman, like Jesus, is woke, not weak.

We’ve even put that spirit on a shirt on our TrumpsFeverDream.com page that spun off from DreamShield: WokeNotWeak.
👉 Get yours here and wear your hero’s heart on your sleeve.

Turn up that John Williams theme, feel that old childhood spark, and remember: your own hero is still inside you, ready to rise.

DreamShield Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Verdict: A timeless meditation in motion, reminding us that in a world full of Luthors, we can still choose to be Superman.

The Fever Breaks: How a Meditation Became the Greatest Trump Satire on Earth 1

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, DreamShield, Elizabeth England, Ken Sheetz, Meditations on Trump, Trump's Fever DreamLeave a comment

In 2020, during the lonely, chaotic depths of Covid, so many friends lost to the psyop that is still running on social media, Elizabeth I did what I we always do when the world goes sideways — we meditated.

Here on DreamShieldPlanetaryMeditations.com, I was deep into my Meditations on Trump series, trying to decode the karmic madness of America’s orange wrecking ball. Then something cracked open.

A vision. A fever dream. A feral alternate reality where satire, sci-fi, and spiritual justice collided in glorious chaos.

Too vivid to ignore. Too funny. Too true.

For two years, I tried to contain it here — until it outgrew the meditation rug. On May 21, 2022, on the amazing new site built by Elizabeth, we launched TrumpsFeverDream.com, and the beast took flight.

What started as a metaphysical impulse became a 19-chapter, two-year creative odyssey. And in 2023, when I began writing the fictional premise that Trump would cheat and win the 2024 election, I thought I was being wildly imaginative.

Then Trump pulled off wins in seven swing states in real life.

And I looked at Elizabeth and said, “Holy shit. A hack, like I predicted? ” As usual she got me grounded with some yoga. Afterward, like a man possessed, I kept writing and writing and writing. Hoping against hope that my prediction Biden would — as I wrote fictionally, lock Trump up and pass the baton to Kamala — come true.

All this tuning into a Trump of another universe, though fictional, an orange dude far too much like our own, a fiendish cad who became overconfident and rejected Musk — his fatal mistake in our tale — was taking a toll on my beautiful relationship Elizabeth and our film and tech businesses. I pleaded for the time. And lucky for fans, she agreed on one condition. She would narrate the story to share the fever dream with me even it made also her a target for potential haters. Her bravery and love inspired me in ways I can’t describe. And we both hope there’s enough of a sense of humor and wonder out there for this story to find a publisher, maybe for a TV series, but even if it’s just been the blog we’re happy and proud of our work together.

As she narrated every chapter I cranked out, on grueling schedule of one new chapter per week, launching J6 until June 14th King’s Day, Elizabeth kept pushing me to channel my fury into purpose. Together we co-created an end to the Trump fever dream, at least at least in this fictional alternate reality. And on we pushed as fascism, tariff wars, ICE raids and threats WW3 rose and fell on waves of palpable fear, on we shaped the Mar-a-Lago Prison arc, set between the hacked election and the 2025 inauguration.

And what a final act it became.

The story introduces Trump’s caretakers in Mar-a-Lago Prison, where the stress being Biden’s captive has caused a rapid onset of dementia. Robert Tulsa, Trump’s Black bodyman with secrets and a quiet dignity. He turns over the evidence that solves Trump’s murder. Then there’s Special Agent Rogers, stoic, injured, loyal to the Constitution, and maybe just a bit heartbroken underneath it all. Last, Maria the Mexican maid/spy destined to save America…but not herself.

Let’s not forget our alternate universe Ron DeSantis, driven to madness by not being chosen as VP in Trump’s humiliating reality TV-style “Veep-a-Thon.” His bitterness festers into a sinister plot to become VP and invoke the 25th Amendment — not out of duty, but revenge for Trump humiliating him on reality TV. This Ron becomes Shakespearean in the worst Florida-man way.

And through all of it:
An alternate reality Kamala Harris rises.

Not a cameo. Not a meme. But a president — calm, fierce, centered, powerful. The Kamala I wrote and Elizabeth voices is the kind of leader we wanted to believe in. And we’re damn proud of how good and strong a president she became in this universe.

Then there’s Arnold Schwarzenegger, who in this world is a man’s man we can still root for. He’s integrity with abs. And me, well, minus the abs. He’s flawed, stubborn, super annoying at times, but tries to do the right thing — a not-so-subtle stand-in for yours truly. Masculinity with heart. Strength in service of good.

This wasn’t just parody. This was exorcism.
A soul-level purge of a shared American nightmare. And proof of the power meditation to create amazing stories.

And yes — I did the unthinkable. I ended both Trump’s and Biden’s stories.

Universe 48B25 — stands for.

  • 48, for Trump declared the 48th president-elect not the 47th as in our reality.
  • B, for Biden’s final grace in stepping aside for Kamala as he should have in our own realioty.
  • 25, for the year the fever finally breaks.

In this dreamed of reality, the left and right finally reunite.
Not in unity, but in shared grief.
Fascism falls. Truth rises. And maybe… humanity finds its footing again.

It’s the wildest, weirdest, most audacious Trump satire on Earth — bigger than Colbert, Meyers, Kimmel, and Fallon by the power of ten. “Not kidding around here” to quote Biden.
Because TFD doesn’t just mock — it heals. And the popularity of SOUTH PARK shows there is willing and ready audience.

ET angels in Italy

Celebrating 15 Years of The DreamShield – First Contact

On By Ken SheetzIn antarctica, CoolestTechEver, DreamShield, Mayan Calendar, UFOLeave a comment

The DreamShield blog was born from a life-changing vision I experienced in Italy on May 10th, 2010. That date—5/10/2010—translates numerologically to 5+5+1+2+1 = 14, which reduces to 5. For the first time since that powerful experience, I looked up the meaning of the number 5 on Numerology.com. I was stunned by how precisely it captured the impact of that day on my life.

A key trait of the number 5 is curiosity and a deep need for a variety of exciting experiences to feel fulfilled. It craves freedom and adventure and isn’t afraid to let the wind carry it where it may. For the 5, life is not about setting goals and making plans—it’s about getting out there and experimenting. Anything that stirs the senses piques the 5’s interest, and it can’t wait to dive in.

That spirit perfectly captures the wild, unexpected detour my life took that day.

I had traveled to Santa Maria del Sole, a lush retreat in southern Italy, to film a workshop led by Connie Miller, founder of SoulDrama.com. During a group healing session led by a gifted healer named Guilia, I was simply a fly on the wall—no filming was allowed during the healing. So, I laid on my yoga mat and closed my eyes.

And then… it happened.

In a deep trance, I found myself soaring through Earth’s atmosphere at incredible speed, escorted by benevolent 8-foot-tall, blue-skinned extraterrestrials. Together, we formed two immense energy rings encircling the planet—one east-to-west, the other north-to-south. The two rings intersected right through the yoga hall. It was beautiful. Profound. Unforgettable.

And it shook me to my core.

When the session ended and I came out of the trance, I turned to Connie and asked softly, “Did you see them?” She smiled kindly and said no, but was glad I had. I hadn’t expected any of this—I was there to make a film. Yet, I had just witnessed something that felt more real than anything I had ever filmed.

Later, walking the idyllic grounds of Santa Maria del Sole, I felt… violated. Angry. Confused. The vision was so vivid, so overpowering, I feared I’d suffered a psychotic break. I kept the experience to myself and finished filming. I tried to find Guilia to tell her, but she was unavailable.

That night, I checked into a modest hotel in Puglia, my next stop before heading back to L.A., with a layover in Venice. My room, shaped like the inside of a beehive, was basic. Too exhausted to undress, I collapsed onto a narrow bed covered in a thin black bedspread.

Then the voice came.

Loud. Clear. Impossible to ignore.

“Do not be afraid. You have been chosen to help save humanity by building a dream shield around the Earth.”

I sat up, heart pounding, expecting to see an alien sitting in the desk chair. But I was alone.

“Who are you?” I asked aloud.

“Friends,” the voice replied. “And we want you to host meditation events to strengthen the DreamShield on 10.10.10, 11.11.11, and 12.12.12—to bring about a gentle end to the Mayan calendar.”

I didn’t speak aloud again, only internally.

“No one will come. I’m no meditation expert.”

Silence. Then tears welled in my eyes. Was I going crazy?

Feeling deeply unsettled, I got out of bed and called Santa Maria del Sole. This time, Guilia answered. She listened with fascination and encouraged me to return and record our conversation. I caught a taxi back that night and, with camera in hand, interviewed her in a breathless exchange where I broke my cardinal rule as a documentarian—I did most of the talking.

Sharing the vision out loud was healing. It grounded me. As the taxi drove back through the golden hills of Puglia and the sun dipped beneath the horizon, I felt calm. That night, I began to dream again—this time not with fear, but with awe.

Since that day in 2010, through all the storms and chaos that have followed, my connection with those blue-skinned travelers has only grown deeper. They are now, whether real or a product of my powerful creative imagination, part of my spiritual life. Guides. Allies. Friends.

I owe thanks to so many: to Guilia, for grounding me in that moment of crisis; to Connie Miller, for inviting me on this unexpected path; to my late friend Bradley Quick, who gifted me the trip to Italy in his place and to every one of you who has supported and shared in the DreamShield experience here and with your purchase of the finest in bio-hacking products my wife and partner Elizabeth offer at CoolestTechEver.com.

Here’s to dreaming together—boldly, curiously, and with the courage of a number 5 spirit. Happy 15th anniversary to the DreamShield!

New Ken Sheetz Series – Remembering Patrick Flanagan

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, Dr. Patrick Flanagan, Mayan Calendar, UFOLeave a comment

I am thrilled to announce the launch of a very special series from our archives and hearts:
Remembering Patrick Flanagan — series honoring one of the most brilliant visionary minds the world has ever known.

Twelve years ago, I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to film Patrick for what became our viral web series The Flanagan Experiments — 50 videos that explored his genius inventions, wild ideas, and boundless curiosity. This was before “biohacking” was a trend and before tech and spirit fully converged like they are today.

Now, after years of focus on our meditation films, political satire and bringing you CoolestTechEver.com, Elizabeth, my co-producer and love, and I are opening the vault — and our hearts — to bring you the behind-the-scenes stories, lost footage, and intimate reflections on what it was like to create this magical series with genius Patrick and his beloved Stephanie.

In the first two posts, I share the wild journey that got me to Chichén Itzá to film Patrick at the end of the Mayan calendar — guided by a vision, saved by a PayPal glitch, and clothed in nothing but determination (and a symposium T-shirt 😅).

You can read the first two posts it here:

👉 Sedona Bonding
👉 Journey Back from the End of the World

Each week I’ll release a new story, memory, or clip. I hope these spark your imagination, make you laugh, maybe even make you cry, and remind you of how much one brilliant soul can impact the world.

Patrick may be gone from this Earth…
…but his frequency is still very much with us. And I hope I am just one of many people who come forward with stories of their personal experiences in working with this one of kind genius.

Godless Christianity

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, Meditations on TrumpLeave a comment

There’s a new brand of so-called Christianity in America, one that bears no resemblance to the teachings of Christ. It thrives on cruelty, power, and greed—wrapped in the language of faith but devoid of its core: love. I call it Godless Christianity.

Elon Musk, Donald Trump, and their enablers have weaponized religion, twisting it into a blunt instrument for their culture war. They exploit Christianity not as a faith of compassion but as a tool for division and control. The result?

  • Mothers are dying because GOP lawmakers, emboldened by Trump’s anti-choice crusade, have stripped women of proper abortion and natal care.
  • 70 million people are going hungry because Musk-Trump-style governance prioritizes tax cuts for billionaires over U.S. foreign aid.
  • The elderly and disabled are at risk as Medicaid and Social Security—lifelines for millions—are gutted under GOP economic policies.
  • Allies are pushed away while authoritarians are embraced, shattering the global stability that true Christian ideals of peace and cooperation would seek to uphold.
  • Truth itself is under attack as lies become political strategy, propaganda replaces journalism, and our institutions cower in the face of rising fascism.

This is not Christianity. This is power-hungry nationalism draped in a cheap, tattered religious cloak.

A Christianity Without Christ

Even if you’re not religious, you might have grown up, like me, admiring the radical kindness at the heart of Christ’s teachings. Feed the hungry. Heal the sick. Love thy neighbor. Welcome the stranger. But Musk, Trump, and their movement have discarded these values in favor of a new golden calf: unchecked wealth and cruelty-as-strength.

How did we get here?

Christianity was hijacked. When Trump’s MAGA preachers declared him “God’s chosen one,” they didn’t mean he embodied Christ’s love and humility. They meant he embodied raw, unapologetic power—a false idol in an Armani suit. And Elon Musk, who openly mocks the idea of compassion, has built a techno-libertarian dystopia where empathy is a weakness, and the only virtue is self-interest.

The Nazi Playbook—Revived

This is not a new trick. Hitler also hid behind the cross. He weaponized Christianity to justify atrocities, declaring himself the defender of “true” German faith while turning it into a tool of state power. His version of religion wasn’t about love or moral integrity—it was a smokescreen for hate, violence, and absolute control.

And Musk? Look at the receipts. He gave a Sieg Heil salute at Trump’s inauguration. That wasn’t an accident. That was a signal. A nod to a playbook we’ve seen before—one where religion is stripped of its morality and transformed into a political cudgel for fascism.

But this strategy can only work if we let it.

Stop Bending the Knee to Fascism

We’ve seen too many institutions—the GOP, the media, and major corporations—cave to the rise of fascism in America. They bend the knee for profit, out of fear, or in some misguided belief that they can “ride the storm out.”

  • The GOP has surrendered to authoritarianism, swapping policy for personality cultism.
  • The media amplifies fascist propaganda, treating it as just another “perspective” rather than exposing it as the existential threat it is.
  • Corporations fund the very people dismantling democracy, selling out their own future for short-term gain.

This is cowardice. It is complicity. And it must stop.

Returning to True God-Based Ideals

Whether we follow Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, or simply a moral code rooted in human decency, we have to reclaim the true values of faith.

  • Love over hate. Not the false “love” that hides behind political dog whistles, but the love that actually cares for people’s lives.
  • Compassion over cruelty. If a policy causes suffering, it’s not of God, no matter what a corrupt politician says.
  • Generosity over greed. The billionaires hoarding wealth and cutting aid are the Pharisees of our time. Call them out.
  • Humility over arrogance. No leader is above morality. No political movement is beyond question.
  • Truth over lies. A lie repeated a thousand times is still a lie. Stop letting fascists define reality.
  • Boycott all religious leaders putting politics on the pulpit.

America needs a spiritual renaissance, but not one built on fear and exclusion. It needs a return to the core ethical principles that unite people of all faiths (and even the faithless) in a shared commitment to justice, kindness, and truth.

If we let Musk and Trump redefine what it means to be Christian, then Christianity itself dies—replaced by something hollow, something heartless, something Godless.

And that, my friends, is a reality worth fighting against.

Support the fight to create a better future world for us with a Political Cool Down donation today!

Sheetz scifi satire to keep your spirits up at TrumpsFeverDream.com.

Enjoy my newest Coolest Meditation Ever video with Elizabeth England narration.

Reality Check: The Mental Collapse of Trump’s Biggest Fans

On By Ken SheetzIn coolest meditation ever, Ken Sheetz, Meditations on Trump, Trump's Fever DreamLeave a comment

Reality is breaking MAGA. You can see it in the wild-eyed desperation of New Age Trump-Musk disciples, clinging to conspiracy theories like life rafts in a storm of their own making because they hate vaccines. Forget the democracy debate for a second—two parties pretending to hate each other while serving the same oligarchs was never real democracy anyway. But what we did have was a stable illusion, a functioning fantasy where elections were at least entertaining and life didn’t change much regardless of who won.

Then Trump came along. The first lifelong criminal to take the Oval Office. A man whose entire existence has been a pyramid scheme, a fraud, a grift. And Musk? A billionaire leech who saw an opening to feed off the chaos and took it. Together, they’ve broken something fundamental in people—the ability to see reality without flinching.

And now, the coping mechanisms are getting insane.

On SMM Elizabeth my wife Elizabeth — who runs our website CoolestTechEver.com that caters to the New Age community we met while filming Dr. Patrick Flanagan — has been seeing New Age individual s who used to preach enlightenment—cracking under the weight of their own bad choices. Instead of admitting they fell for the Russian Trump scam, they’re spinning wild tales about spirit guides getting hijacked and “faker” entities leading them astray. Because, of course, it couldn’t be that they themselves made a terrible choice. No, it has to be dark forces at work! Interdimensional trickery! The spiritual equivalent of “the dog ate my homework.”

Meanwhile, Musk plays both sides like a casino dealer. One hand, he’s pretending to be the tech visionary free speech warrior. The other, he’s cozying up to dictators, silencing dissent, and building a playground for neo-fascists. And somehow, somehow, the same people who once claimed to “question authority” and “see through illusions” are now eating up his every lie.

And Trump? Bottomless corruption. Let’s just list the latest hits:

  • Abandoning Ally Ukraine
  • Stealing GAZA frpm Palestinians for Trump resorts
  • Threatening to invade Canada (Canada? Really? What, did Trudeau hurt his feelings?)
  • Claiming he’ll pull the U.S. out of the EU (which we were never a member of, but hey, details are for losers)
  • Promoting his own meme coin
  • Collecting bribes via lawsuits
  • Offering the Ultimate Grift: the $5 Million Gold Card

Ah yes, the Gold Card, Trump’s latest scam—a glorified frequent felon membership that gets you absolutely nothing except bragging rights in a dying cult. Five million dollars to pretend you’re in the inner circle of a man who wouldn’t cross the street to spit on you if you were on fire.

It’s all one giant, soul-sucking con, and the mental toll is real. People who voted for this madness, who bought into the Musk-Trump mythology, are now losing their damn minds trying to justify it. The truth is too much: that they voted for genocide in Gaza so Musk’s cronies can turn it into a hotel strip. That they voted for rapists to have more rights than their victims. That they backed a mob boss who sees them as nothing more than marks.

But here’s the thing about living in denial: it’s exhausting. The lies compound. The mental contortions twist tighter. And at some point, reality comes crashing down.

And that’s where hope still exists.

If you voted for Trump, you can still take the off-ramp. Do it now. Admit you were hearing what you wanted to hear, that you wanted to believe in the tough-guy act, the outsider narrative, the “America First” lie. Admit you’ve been a fool—but that you’ve seen the error of your ways.

You’ll be amazed at how welcome you’ll be back on the side of sanity.

And if we unite? If enough of us wake up and stand together?

We can stop Trump. But it will take more than votes. It will take the biggest protests and acts of civil disobedience this country has ever seen. The kind of resistance that shakes the ground beneath the feet of tyrants.

Because if we don’t, the collapse we’re witnessing will only get worse. And no amount of meditations or positive thinking is going to save us. We all make mistakes. If Trump was yours get over it and get over it. You made a mistake. I regret falling for Reagan’s lies almost daily. We all make mistake. Right now we need to get over Trump and unite to fight a literal Musk led Nazi coup! Get off your phone or PC and march… while you still can.

This week’s Mar-a-Lago Prison Chapter 10 – Flunking the Electoral College is live! Join our peaceful protest using satire.