Each dream started differently, never the same; every dream was another scenario. Sometimes Murdoc was at home in these dreams and other times he was in some wasteland type city that looked like it had been completely destroyed and left to rot through out time. These weren't dreams that plagued somebody all of their lives, these were new; it was like some door had been unlocked and out flowed the blood. He had no clue why these dreams were happening; okay that was a lie, he had a few ideas of why these dreams were happening.
During their first album and their first touring session Murdoc had spent nearly the entire time consuming drugs and playing around with black magic. The band had broken up once because of a lot of things, but mostly his over abuse of drugs and Satanic type rituals. It wasn't until he swore to his band mates that he would knock it off with the drugs and the rituals that they all agreed to restart the band. That didn't mean Murdoc would keep his word; he was Murdoc Faust Niccals for fuck's sake. He wasn't some child, if it wasn't for Russel he never would have had to swear off drugs and black magic. The only good side to this was that the band had been back for three months now; as far as Murdoc was concerned they couldn't leave or kick him out at this point. For the past month he had been drug binging, late at night he would go to the cemetery and perform rituals. He had learned lots of new rituals, as far as he was concerned he was gaining more control over the supernatural.
It was a little hard to explain the demons running around Kong Studios, including the one playing receptionist at the entrance of the building. Oh well, made no difference; so far they hadn't hurt anybody. Not anybody important.
Right now he was concerned, not very concerned, but just a little bit; these dreams were disturbing him in just the slightest. They were never that long, but they seemed real almost like they were telling him something. Stupid, that was a stupid thought; it was most likely just a side effect from all of the cocaine and speed. That's it, it was nothing; it isn't anything, they're just idiotic nightmares caused by drugs that were probably laced with Satan knows what.
There was nothing to worry about.
He still couldn't help but worry.
