A/N: Four days is a long time, isn't it?, when you're waiting for an author to update their story. Also, I feel like I'm dying from allergies right about now. Stupid pollen. Don't forget, this story is HUMANIZED. That means, Skips isn't a yeti, by the way.

"Hm..." said Skips. "How long have you been having these dreams, Fives?"

"I dunno, about two, three weeks." I replied. "It's more or less the same thing: me and a bunch a friends are drunk and we all die in a car crash. D'you think it has anything to do with..."

"Your death? Probably. I don't know too many ghosts, so I don't know how this kinda thing works, but I'm pretty sure that's what that is." Skips said. He walked... er, skipped over to his bookshelf and picked up a green book. He flipped to a page and, after reading it, instructed me to lay down on the couch (which was rather difficult, seeing as I kept subconsciously floating through the cushions).

"Okay, close your eyes." Skips said, as he pressed something against my forehead. It felt like some kind of fabric. Suddenly, I felt a shock. A small one, but a shock nonetheless. Soon, I drifted off to sleep.

We were in an RV this time. Sitting to the right of me was Chauncey, his arm around me. To the left was...

"Skips?!" I yelled. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer.

I looked around. Everyone else was laughing and talking. I guess nobody noticed him. Or my sudden outburst.

"Wait, is this one of those things where you know you're dreaming?" I asked Skips. The buff man nodded. "Can I control it?"

"No."

Damn. Oh well. I looked around. Chauncey, Moe and his girlfriend (who were sitting on a bed), Larry, we were all back here. Who the hell was driving this thing? I got out of my seat and starting going to the front when Chauncey stopped me.

"Hey dude, where are you going?" he asked. He didn't seem to be drunk. In fact, nobody was.

"I... uh... who's driving this?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

This time, I shrugged. "Well, I'm going to the bathroom." Chauncey said. "Stay cute!"

"Didn't know you swung that way." Skips said, as he seemingly appeared from nowhere.

"When did you...?!" he skipped past me and into the drivers' section... place... area. Whatever. He was shocked. I came over to see what the deal was. Driving the RV was some skeleton dude that looks kinda like Lemmy Kilmister, from Motorhead.

He turned around, clearly not focusing on the road anymore. "Why hello there, Skips! Long time no see."

"Death, what're you doing in Fives' dream?" Skips asked.

"I'm here to collect the one soul still missing from this scene." he stood up and poked me in the chest. "Yours."