[Ben has wrestled with guilt as a vague, shapeless thing, present but less pressing, less motivational than other emotions such as anger and fear. The intangible equivalent of a toddler's scrawl, inconsistent and unsteady. Awkward black and white.

He honestly feels more remorse for the things he doesn't feel than the things he does. But this time, he shakes his head, eyes still on her.]

Dreams are not realistic. You are not a deer. You would not be held immobile by hooks you did not see and could not fight. You would not be left to your fate.

They are not real.