[He's quiet for a long, long moment, staring at nothing. Less like going into his own head and more like falling into it, into the static. (Like wind in his ears.)]

It was a dream. [He emphasizes it like he should be saying harmless instead.] The same as any other, except--

[His jaw clenches, instinct against breaching this topic kicking in.]

It wasn't natural. Obviously. Ordinarily the memories are hazy at best -- at best, if I even remember at all. But these... it doesn't, won't, stop.

[He makes a restless gesture with his hands and clams up again. Stopping is the problem, always the problem between him and sleeping. It only gets worse when he's assaulted with the remnants of a nightmare (failing, falling, dying) any time he slows down enough to try.]