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“I’m living the dream.”

Bad: Twice Ronan got a phone call from his Ganseyfriend and both times he did not say anything to the phone, just listened to the ebullient patter on the other end and made grunting sounds in response. Both times after this Ronan went and lay down, once in his own room and once in Aurora’s room; the first time, he was very quiet for a long time, and the second time he held his parents’ photograph and cried a little without making any sound.

Even though Opal thought Ronan was good at dreaming — after all, he had dreamt her, and she was excellent.

Opal, eavesdropping, had not quite followed the gist of the conversation — she was still better in the old dream language that waking Ronan never spoke — but she could tell that Adam liked it when Ronan talked like this. Sometimes they would stop talking and instead begin kissing, and Opal would eavesdrop on this as well.

He had always been dying in his dreams, or getting small pieces cut off him, or being pitted against faceless gunmen. Nuclear bombs exploded in his hands and fish broke through windows to ruin sofas and myriad bodies showed up in myriad driveways. Not all of his dreams were terrible, but that made them collectively worse, not better.

Opal came to understand that Adam’s car was supposed to be more like Ronan’s, but there was something wrong with it called shitbox.

She was to remember that she was a secret.

“Sometimes I don’t even know if I’m a real thing. Why isn’t there anyone else like me?” “Your dad. Kavinsky.” meant living people. Unless the takeaway is that we’re all just really good at being dead.”

Sometimes bad ideas were so bad they looped right around until they became good ideas.

Ronan also sounded a little like dreamstuff, but it was not exactly the same as that of the dream creatures.

Dreamstuff always sounded like a dream, which sounded like the ley line, which sounded a little bit like the electrical murmur you would hear under large power lines, which sounded like when you walked into a room and the television had been left on but the sound was turned down. It was also a little like the thrum inside her that she could sort of hear-feel when she was lying quietly in the grass not-sleeping