Part of it is the city fucking with the both of them and Felicia just being who she is. Getting to sleep and staying asleep has been worse than ever lately and what she doesn't know is that Wolfgang's explanation is so much closer to the truth than anything else. But nobody's told her anything about how exactly magic works, much less how she works. That old dusty book she found in the attic is still misunderstood and practically illegible in her grandmother's handwriting. This is where flying by the seat of her pants has gotten Felicia and it ain't too far either.

But still, she thinks it's something wrong with her. It's her. Not him. His dreams were his business unless he gave her permission to poke around in them. It's her fault this time, and no amount of reassurance will help.

"I've never went into the fog." She's heard stories, mainly from bypassers and the old man she bought the trailer from. They've been enough to scare her good. "I'm not supposed to be able to do that. Not like that."