['Alive' only meant so much when the parts of him that knew what death felt like hundreds of times over were close enough to touch and hold. Oscar had always hesitated to venture too deeply into the parts of his mind that were shared with the others. The interminable ticking at times was almost deafening, and he had no desire to risk losing himself yet.

...Like he was walking the edge of now.]

I guess, [he said in a non-commital way, longing for his bed and a quiet refuge.]

Are any of us alive. Are we still out dreaming in the ocean? Are we back in our homes dreaming of all of this?

It's hard to tell.