“Daymare,” I say.
“Oh, you mean like what happens and what you see when you are awake?” the blonde asks.
I open my mouth to speak, but catch myself in time to shut it.
A quick grin.
Lips part, mouth reopens, tongue helps the organ say:
“That’s heady,” I say.
“You should see my nightmares.”
That’s, literally, what she said.