Wolfgang typically remembers every detail of every second, but he suspects that is due to repetition. He has one of the same set of dreams every night, and they're not even proper dreams so much as memories, which are never really forgotten. This one is different because of that. A lot of it is blurry, and he's losing it; he should be grateful for that.

"Blocked my head off. Something." He leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table, his hands running through his hair and getting stuck in the tangled mass it is. He makes a face and pulls them out. "Put a big wall around it. That's not real," he adds, barely pausing between that subject change. "I mean, I think it's not. I don't think it's dangerous."

He doesn't think...