[The first night in the dojo, Paul sleeps like a stone sunk to the bottom of a riverbed, curled up on stacked floor mats under a blanket too heavy for the weather. He's too exhausted for anything but the mercy of oblivion, no matter how troubled the tides of possibility
It's the second night, when he curls up on a narrow cot (with two t-shirts balled up under a flat pillow), that the dreams come back.
He throws his blanket off, fitfully, sweat tacking his loose sleeping clothes to his skin as his temperature rises. He twists on the cot as he mumbles words never fully articulated, his face crumpling with distress - until Paul arches his back with a sharp cry, fingertips flaring into points of flame in the dark.]
you are only coming through in waves (Johnny)
It's the second night, when he curls up on a narrow cot (with two t-shirts balled up under a flat pillow), that the dreams come back.
He throws his blanket off, fitfully, sweat tacking his loose sleeping clothes to his skin as his temperature rises. He twists on the cot as he mumbles words never fully articulated, his face crumpling with distress - until Paul arches his back with a sharp cry, fingertips flaring into points of flame in the dark.]