Patrick was already inside the dream, waiting for her. Sorcha gave him a sharp nudge with the point of her elbow to make him move the dead weight of his head from her shoulder and he sighed and rolled his head away so that it sagged against the back of the sofa. In the deep red crack between his lips was the slick shine of drool. The buzz coming from the unit tucked just behind his ear was muted, like traffic heard through layers of glass but it still irritated like a wasp grizzling around her head. Patrick had said that they would meet up in the dream, but the truth was you never knew quite where you would end up until you opened your eyes and were staring at the weirdness around you like a newborn.