Dave shifts so that he can sit with his back to the wall instead of to the hall and gives Murphy his full attention.

"Actually, it wasn't too bad. Who cares if you're surrounded by assholes whose eyes have gone white and are still bleeding from slit throats or stab wounds? The point is that they're dead, and nothing worse can happen to a person who's already gone. Fact is, if I were having those dreams still? It might be nice to see them again."

He's smiling something sad and calm and horrifying all at once. Then, almost as if catching himself, he smooths out his expression, lets his eyes slide shut and his head fall back until it leans against the wall.

"Sorry, bet I sound like a one hell of a morbid motherfucker right now. Just... I haven't been having those dreams lately." No dream bubbles, no horrorterrors to open the gates to the afterlife here. "I've been having that prophetic dream again, just that one on repeat, and it's not the version I got used to."

When his eyes open, they're kind of glassy and vacant, but when he flicks them back to Murphy, they refocus, warm and kind of sad.

"So, still think your dreams aren't worth talking about?"