((Looks like I'll have to post before this days...please, people, try and be more diligent about this, you all joined up on the pretense that you'd keep it going.))

Dave sat, drifting in between consciousness, the only sign of life was when he would lift the bottle from the arm of the chair to his lips. That was until it was finished and he let the bottle fall to the carpet with a soft thump. In a few moments, he was comatose, unconscious, he'd faded out.

In his mind, in his vision, he saw himself. It strode up to him, a grimace of contempt on it's face. "It's going to kill you!" it yelled, a sound that rattled his brain-cells.
"You're going to fucking die! You idiot, you're killing yourself! A road of ruin lies before you...but you can take a right turn," It now pleaded with Dave, "Go straight Lad, don't be deceived by it all...go straight!"

The the vision turned ugly, the white-walls of his mind now awash with blood, It had become dark...it raised a gun to Dave and fired.

Dave jolted awake, not violently, but noticably. He looked around with wide-eyes and breathed heavily before realizing he was back with his friends, his second family. But he'd be lying if he said the dream didn't frighten him, but he'd lie anyway.
He got up quickly and began to - in very un-Dave like fashion - make himself a cup of coffee like there was no tomorrow.

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