The Dreamer 2.

Tearing himself from his bed the next morning, Stuart grasps at his chest and tries to suppress the panic that has gripped him like a vice and is strangling the breath from his lungs. Closing his eyes he somehow manages to calm himself enough to take a few short breaths. Then slowly he feels his racing heart slow down and finally he can breathe again. With the vibrant images from his dreams still pulsing around in his mind he quickly checks himself for any scars or injuries that will prove either way if he had dreamed that or not. But in the end he finds nothing of great significance. So he drops back down to the mattress and slides his fingers through his spiky blue hair with an air of despondency. Fairly certain that a dream that vivid can't possibly be a dream and something had actually happened to him last night.

Recalling the smell that had surrounded him, of bleach and disinfectant, he thinks hard about it and tries to work out the other scent that was wafting about under the surface of the stronger ones. It had a familiarity about it that had made him concentrate on it and focus. Perhaps if he thinks about it and the room, then he can work out where he was and go there now. That will prove one way or the other if he's really dreaming. Leaning his weight forwards with his elbows rammed hard into his knees. Stuart covers his mouth with his hands and thinks hard about the whole scenario. Determined to work this puzzle out before nightfall tonight.

“Something wet?” he mumbles into his hands, letting his eyes flicker shut and focus completely on the smells alone. “Wet like... compost? No no, not compost. It was damp, decay.” Sitting up again and staring hard at his bedroom door. He then tries to relate it to something to help him.

“Old like a building that was locked up for a long time. No, I know. It was like when we went on tour once and Russel left that container of fried rice in the fridge. The thing went off and grew a beard. By the time we got back the whole inside of the fridge was fluffy and eww.” Smiling because he understands it now, he leans over to his side table and grabs his packet of cigarettes. “Musty mouldy smell.”

Now he can look at the room behind the powerful beam of the surgical light. Hard as it was to look beyond it, he had been able to detect shadows and shapes if he narrowed his eyes and looked through his eyelashes. Sliding a cigarette from the pack and popping it between his lips. He tries to recall some of the shapes while lighting up. His mind keeps forming a grid pattern, but he's certain that that isn't quite right. So he tosses his lighter down onto the side table again and gets to his feet. Slowly pacing out a tight circle on the floor rug, he puffs out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils and passes through it. Little eddy's form in the cloud and sweep past his arms, drifting up towards the vaulted ceiling above him, to disappear amongst the shadows like ghosts. Stopping and lifting his head he gazes almost blankly at the pill bottle next to his lamp. With the dull thump of a migraine building at his temples he knows that a handful of pills would fix it, but also dull his mind and stop the progress that he's made so far. Making a decision he shakes his head and continues pacing and thinking.

“Boxes?” he mutters, lifting a hand to his temple and massaging some of the pain away with his fingers. Drawing the shape in the air in front of his eyes he thinks harder. “Lots of boxes, but not boxes? Rectangles. Like patterns.” Stopping again he stares at his bedroom wall, drawing the shape over and over. “Tiles. Like the ones.....? Kitchen!” Grabbing his robe from the hook on the back of his door Stuart reefs it open, ignoring the icy chill of the concrete floor under his feet and quickly heading to the corridor door. Murdoc has just stepped down from his wagon and appears to be heading there himself when he spots him. Coming to an immediate stop when he sees the naked younger man marching with a large degree of purpose in his direction.

“Christ!” he yelps and almost takes a cautionary step back. His mind reeling with the thought that the singer has finally decided to take one of his dreams about him and make it a reality. Raising a fist in readiness to defend himself, the bassist grits his teeth hard. Only to see the guy turn and open the door instead and make his way down the corridor to the lobby. “Put some bloody pants on yah pillock!” Murdoc shouts through the open doorway, looking in time to see the door at the other end slam shut. Pursing his lips in annoyance at being not just startled but also ignored by the usually timid younger man. The bassist firmly marches towards it himself, determined to at least have his presence acknowledged by him in some fashion. Slamming his way into the lobby he gets to the elevator in time to see the doors close. Which makes the older man even more annoyed, so he repeatedly stabs the call button with a finger while muttering and cursing under his breath.

“Ignore me will he.”

Forcing his way out when the elevator doors open at the other end. Stuart rushes to the kitchen and skids to a halt when he gets there. Now that he sees the walls he realises that it's not the kitchen that he's thinking of. Because they're the same dirty duck egg blue, just like the ones everywhere else in the building except for...

“The bathroom!” Rushing back to the elevator and slapping the call button, he dances back and forth from one foot to the other impatiently. The second the doors open he pushes forwards, crashing directly into the angry bassist. Who sucks a shocked breath and stares hard into his black hole eyes. Not in the mood for the older man's attitude at the moment. Stuart grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him out of the little cubical. Turning with him until he's inside and the bassist is out in the hall. Then he lets go and steps back, slapping the ground floor button and muttering to himself. Not really taking any notice of the look of absolute shock on Murdoc's face, at what he'd just done to him.

“Look you I'm getting-” Murdoc is cut off by the elevator doors closing. Which sends his rage spiralling into dangerous levels, but there isn't anyone or anything here that he can vent it out on. So he punches the doors hard with a fist instead and hisses a threat that he'll tear the kid's head off later. Huffing in frustration he then turns and stomps into the kitchen, curious about what has the guy focused but not enough to spend the rest of the day chasing after him. Instead he turns his attention towards finding a bottle of rum that he can drown himself in.

Slamming open the bathroom door and staring at the walls, Stuart grins wide because they are covered in the same kinds of tiles that he was thinking of. Except the ones that he remembers weren't covered in graffiti like these ones are. So he once again drops his gaze to the floor and begins pacing again, thinking hard. Sucking the tip of one of his fingers while watching the floor move beneath his feet. He puts the two elements together and realises that it could not possibly have been the bathroom, because it doesn't smell the same way. Toilet duck and pooh, he thinks with a sigh then comes to a stop again. Blinking rapidly with a growing thought looming to fill his entire mind.

“I have seen them before. Down there, near the maintenance room. It smells like wet dirt down there,” he whispers and quickly takes off back towards the elevator.

“Yo watch it man!” Russel grunts at Stuart as he whips under his outstretched arm and past him on the way out of the room. Bringing the large man to a complete stop because he's not entirely sure what could either have happened or what may be about to follow the singer. Wincing an holding his rumbling stomach he stares at the door waiting to see if anything or Murdoc is about to slam it open. But the discomfort that he feels becomes to great, so he punches the door open with a meaty hand and holding his rear end, rushes into the room. “Damn Indian food. I knew I shouldn't have had thirds,” he mutters to himself. “But nooo. I just had to end the night with something hot and spicy, didn't I.”

“Hullo Stuart,” Noodle says to the singer as he dashes by her. She narrows her eyes and watches him skid past the elevator and hop towards the corridor door. “Stuart?” she repeats firmly.

“Hi Noo, gotta go,” Stuart calls back and slams the door open, disappearing inside. The young girl stands perfectly still, looking from the direction that he'd come from, then back down to where he'd gone. Then making a decision she takes a very deliberate step back out of the way expecting Murdoc to come bursting into the room at any second. Playing with her electronic pet while she waits. She pushes the button to feed it, then furrows her brow when Murdoc doesn't make an appearance. So she looks up again and begins wondering what had made him run away like that. Mulling it over for a few more seconds, she eventually gives up with a shrug and continues on her way to the cafe for a bottle of juice.

Rushing to the hole in the wall Stuart is about to leap inside when he realises that he's only wearing his bathrobe and nothing else. Suddenly recalling that he'd rushed by Noodle this way he blushes and groans in embarrassment. Then dashes to his bedroom door and slams his way in. Coming back out fully dressed he heads back to the hole in the wall and picks a careful path through the rubble. Stopping at the edge of the hole and gingerly looking down into it's black depths, before stepping onto the lift and pushing the button that engages the motor. Holding the railing tightly in his hands. He watches the yellow light turn and cast it's eerie glow over the walls as the singer and the lift travels downwards. Until it comes to a stop at the bottom and he climbs down. The second that he does he sees the dirty tiled walls and spits a celebratory affirmation that he was right. Then checks the radio room first for any sign of the table and medical instruments from his dreams.

Stopping at the Hell Hole room door and heaving a despondent sigh, the singer turns away and thinks carefully about what it is that he's doing. There were no sounds in the room in his dream and right now he's surrounded by it. So even though he's got the scenery right, the general ambience is off so he has to think about this again. Making his way back to the chair lift he stops next to the statue of Vlad and looks back over his shoulder. There are corridors leading off from this path that he's never travelled down. So he makes his way back and takes a left down the hall and begins trying the doors that he finds along the way.

Most of the doors are locked and the ones that aren't are stacked with wooden crates and boxes, filled with hand cream, detergent and moisturiser. The sorts of things that Murdoc is often buying and passing onto unsuspecting people for profit. Another room contains a huge crate in the middle of the floor and lots of smaller ones stacked neatly around it. Becoming curious and seeing a crowbar nearby he picks it up and makes his way over to the nearest one. Hesitating for a moment before he digs the tool into the wood and prises it open. Stuart digs through the wood fibre packing and flinches, jerking his hand back when his fingertips touch something hard and metallic.

“What the-?” digging his hand back in he slowly pulls out an assault rifle. Turning it over in his hands with a look of confusion spread over his face. He looks around at all the other boxes of a similar shape, then stops his gaze on the massive one in the middle of it all. Putting the gun back down and picking the crowbar up again. He cautiously walks up to it and with a grunt slams the crowbar into the wood and struggles to open the box up. The sound of splintering wood and nails straining from their holes echoes around the room. Until finally it comes free and the front of the box slams down onto the floor, throwing up a huge cloud of dust. Waving a hand in front of his face and coughing softly Stuart steps forwards and as the dust settles drops the crowbar to the floor with a loud clatter. Shocked at what he's looking at and not at all sure how in the world the bassist had managed to get the box down here.

“That's a canon. A um, Howitzer thingy what the army uses. What the Hell does Muds want to do with this thing?” he mumbles as he climbs into the box for a better look.

Wandering out of the room a little later, Stuart returns to his search and checks the other rooms in that section. Then turns the next corner and follows the same ritual. Until he finds a room that is completely dark, but pungent with a strong scent of disinfectant and bleach, faintly underlined with a hint of mould. Slowly walking into the room he feels the wall nearby for any sign of a light switch, flicking on the light when his hand finds one and hissing in pain when the room is suddenly flooded with strong light. Shading his eyes and flickering them open, he slowly drops his hand when it becomes easier to handle. Letting his mouth drop open in shock when he sees the metal cabinets along one wall, next to a bank of sinks and benches. And next to it a hook with a white hospital coat and a butchers apron. The singer walks towards the centre of the room and pulls on the large white sheet that is draped over something. His eyes widen as it slips down to the floor, revealing what is under it to him.

“I knew it wasn't a dream,” he whispers, gingerly stepping back from the shiny metal table.