Andrew blinks -- that is to say, he shows absolutely no outward sign of surprise or interest. "It has been more than a week since the last one," he says, hardly daring to hope. "If there are others around -- Rassilon, but I need to work on my lucid dreaming. Hang on, I'm going to try to get out of here."

'Here' being the ball pit, not the shell. Andrew has been thinking about Daleks and their abilities, and now he tries to imagine what circuit must command the shell to turn on its thrusters and levitate. The balls are dimly lit from below by his efforts (some will no doubt melt), and he slowly starts to rise...only to lose his balance and pitch over sideways just before clearing the surface. He lays there on his side on top of the balls, waving his gun in useless reflex.