She feels something at his shocked denial, relief perhaps, and affection, but it seems very far away, like it belongs in another universe. Her anger also flows out of her grasp quickly; she used to be so furious with him, so hurt, but it doesn't matter here. She replies to his question with only a vague frown. "I don't dream." He knew this, she told him, there were marble steps.

Then it dawns on her why he feels so far away and she is weighed down by sadness, regarding him with an incongruously melancholy look while she's burning around them. "Of course it wasn't you. You aren't really here, are you." It's not a question; he can't be, so he isn't. But she knows what's happening now. "I am bleeding."