After the whole 'getting sedated' thing his dreams have been more than a little surreal. He's walked through paintings, saw music as it danced around him, explored a city that was twisted and warped by his mind.

But now things are quiet.

Neal sits in the middle of the floor, his hat in his lap on a quiet street corner. Nothing seems strange, nothing seems out of place except maybe him.

He feels like he he shouldn't be here.

Distant sounds come from somewhere he can't pinpoint. Sounds of music and flashes of light. He has no idea what it is but he also isn't sure he wants to find out.

He looks around him again,, getting to his feet and putting his hat on his head. He starts walking in the opposite direction of the noise but with every step he takes, it feels like chaos draws closer.

It could be worse, at least now he knows he's dreaming, knows that whatever is coming after him is only in his mind.

[There’s a point when using dream-share technology for any length of time where it becomes almost impossible to dream without it. It’s an inevitable consequence that every long-term dreamer discovers sooner or later, though whether it’s merely a starting point of the damage it can cause is another matter entirely. It’s been so long now since Arthur last dreamed of anything the natural way that he’s come to accept the fact that he probably never will again. And, considering the content of some of the dreams that once plagued him, he finds he doesn’t really mind as much as he perhaps should; it’s a small price to pay to continue working with something he loves.

That is, of course, until he returns home after months away doing a job he thought impossible and curls up on the sofa to relax, the exhaustion of it all finally catching up as he falls asleep.

He’s dreaming. But this is…different. It’s not how he remembers normal dreams to feel, he’s far too aware of the surroundings even if they are initially hazy. And, as far as he can tell, he isn’t connected to the PASIV. No, that he would remember, though he reaches for the red loaded die in his pocket and rolls it across the ground to make sure. But as he follows it with his eyes, it disappears. He frowns, unimpressed, and looks up from where he’s crouching to realise he’s in the middle of a road. It’s perfectly flat, appears endless, and the black tarmac burns beneath his touch. The sun is blinding, he realises, as he pushes himself to his feet and lifts a hand to shield his eyes, and he’s in the middle of nowhere with nothing but desert on either side.

Arthur does the only thing he can do and starts walking down the centre, staring forward into the overwhelming mass of blue sky that looks as if it’s meeting with the road far into the distance. He doesn’t know where the road is going to take him, or if he’ll ever get there, but he hopes he comes across company along the way. It’s always about the journey, after all, and Arthur can be a patient man, especially if it’s going to lead him to somewhere, something, or someone worthwhile.]

[Duffy is moving around the modest, country kitchen efficiently and with ease. It's a familiar space for him, and when he turns towards you you'll notice he's missing his left arm from just above his elbow. He doesn't let it hold him back though, as he smiles softly and turns on the stove. He's humming Pour Some Sugar on Me as he works. He seems to be cooking bacon and eggs for an army.]

Any requests?

[Anya is sitting behind the counter of the Magic Box, like she does most days. And she's going over one of the ledgers like she has been lately since Giles keeps making her double check everything. But she's still watching the patrons out of the corner of her eye.

If there's one thing Anya hates, it's people who loiter around and never buy anything. They are the leeches of Capitalist society, as far as she's concerned.]

If you don't want to be thrown out of the store, I highly recommend you actually purchase something.

Ignore this!!

[New York City is all around him, a mixture of loud noise and constant movement. He's standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding a piece of paper and scanning the crowd.

And there she is.]

Kate! [He starts running after her, pushing people aside as he goes.] Kate, wait!

[He runs faster and faster, following her through the streets, darting into alleys and making sharp turns but he can never quite reach her, no matter how fast he goes.

His lungs are burning, his legs ache but he keeps moving, taking another quick turn and nearly crashing into a brick wall.

A wall. A wall with no other exits in immediate view and too high to climb.]

...Kate?

[He looks around, expression momentarily helpless.]