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Dream starred at the ceiling, quickly growing bored of the constant isolation. People visited occasionally, enough to offer relief, though not enough to curb his growing boredom. "Sam!" He called out, aware that the warden couldn't hear him, but not caring. "You could at least give me something to do!" The silence offered on answer as he rolled off the bed, hitting the blood splattered floor. "Thought most prisons had inmates do some kind of job, not just lay around all day," He mused. "Nevermind." Dream picked himself up off the frigid floor and dropped back onto the bed. He scowled. "You'd think a place drenched in lava would be unbearably hot, not colder than the artic. Guess I can blame all of the damned obsidian." He rolled onto his back, gaze returning to the ceiling—not that anything had changed since the last time he'd looked. "This place fucking sucks! Ya know that Sam?!" He yelled into the lava. "This server is populated by ungrateful swines."
The small bell indicating a food drop chimed. Not even a moment later, three potatoes tumbled out of the chute and onto the floor. "Potatoes, again, great." Dream flopped off the bed and walked over to collect the offending starch. They were almost as hard as the obsidian and just slimy enough to make Dream's stomach churn as he retrieved them from the floor. "Really, Sam?! Reaching the bottom of the barrel? These are pathetic, eyen for you." He returned to the bed and began eating—stomach threatening revolt with every bite.
Once the first potato was down, Dream dumped the two remaining into the chest. "I don't care if I starve, I am not finishing those." He curled up on the bed and squeezed his eyes shut, hopping to keep the meager amount of food down.