[@SilverFallen]

Scott's dreams were often random; first he would be in a field talking with a friend, then he would turn around and find himself taking a shit in a bathroom, and then he would look around the stall and suddenly find himself in a college classroom with his pants still around his ankles. You know, that kind of random. Nothing quite extraordinary, just random little snippets of a typical day in a normal person's life.

That did largely change after he entered The Zone. Nightmares quickly became the norm, when he did dream. He eventually found it to be more beneficial to just take naps throughout the day than to try to get a full night's sleep. It tended to make the dreams less common at all, but once in a blue moon, regardless of the circumstances, his mind would revert back to the typical formula of playing random bullshit. This was one such time. At least until subtle perturbations in the ambient sounds of the farmhouse within which he decided to nap in slowly brought consciousness back to him.

His eyes opened, and at first he was simply groggy, not fully taking note of the sound of creaking wood every couple of seconds. At one point he heard it, and turned his head towards the stairs leading to the ground floor. He at first wrote it off as the structure settling, but then heard it again, and noticed that it was coupled with the light shuffling of clothing.

He immediately got out of the couch that he had been laying on and tried to go for his gun, but stopped when the barrel of a shotgun found it's way over the lip and pointed towards him. Naturally, it was probably time to opt for diplomacy.

"Hey there, how's it going?" he asked, trying his best to be his usual friendly self. "Is your morning going well? I know mine could be better! Speaking of which, do you mind not killing me right now?" He hoped that whomever he saw behind the shotgun was a reasonable person, and better yet didn't mind some flippancy.