He shrugs, and offers the packet with its cheap, sparse contents. Are dream cigarettes higher quality than the crap he's used to? Tim takes an experimental pull on his. Apparently not.

"Not bad," he admits finally, blowing out a curl of smoke and looking at the cabin's wood ceiling. "For a dream, I mean. Better than my usual." Anything's better than his usual. Suits, ties, faces without faces, the long dark tendrils of things that shouldn't exist.

Yeah, Tim prefers this.