Jay tilts to look up at him, pulling his hand back to push it under the blanket, because it's too cold now. How can a house so full of fires be so cold?

"In a dream," he echoes. "What are you talking about?"

Dream doesn't make any less sense than anything else, but he doesn't like how easy that makes it to support Tim's potential theory that he isn't really here. He is here. He's breathing. He's shivering. He's alive, no matter what Tim thinks.