I enter the basement room in my house, at the end of the hall to the right, which we've called the "70's room", but inside it is larger than in real life. Scott is at the door. He's moving and talking, but he's dead, like a zombie, with pale skin and bluish in some areas. I ask him if he's all right with being dead, and he says that it was a long time coming.

He climbs into a bed toward the back of the house, and I call out to him but he doesn't answer. He's like a ghost that can only interact when he initiates it.

I climb into an adjacent bed, which are arranged like two doubles in a hotel room, with an aisle and nightstand in between them. At some point he climbs out of bed and grabs my arm. It freaks me out, because he has a horrible rash on his dying skin, and then he apologizes and says he'll stay away so I won't get sick. He seems miserable, tortured. I ask him if there's anything I can do, and he says I should have called somebody to take him away. I think I did all that stuff, I tell him.