-- You had a fun time last night.

-- did i? i can't recall.

-- Unsurprising.

-- Your eyes rolled over once you reached the bed.

-- ah . . . i see.

-- what did it look like?

-- Painful; you grit your teeth the whole time. at least, your body remembers to squeeze your fist before they do it.

-- that's bad, isn't it.

-- I don't know. You don't remember it, so that's probably a good thing- on the other hand, this can't be good for your body.

-- At least you have Charity with you.

-- right . . .

-- You sound disheartened.

-- mh, maybe.

-- i guess, it's hard to feel comforted about it.

-- it's my fault for going- both ours, mine and Charity's; i like going. i like what they do. like the feeling of it, or maybe like the torture of it-

-- everyone is happy then. it feels good to be used that way.

-- and i like Charity- it was worse before. we share it now, that experience.

-- sometimes, it feels like we're sharing a dream . . . one strange, uncomfortable dream. but it's our dream. and we share that need to be in it, that we don't want to leave . . .

-- but hers is the best.

-- she goes to a funny place during 'parties'. tells me about them, or lets me read her journal.

-- it's concrete: there's a cast, a plot, a goal, with a villain, and friends to make and meet. i like that. it's like walking into someone else's home, where no one asks who you are, or why you came. her dream treats me like a part of itself.

-- i guess . . . i don't know. she feels so good.

-- . . .

-- please be kind. i know you don't like 'it',

-- Her dream is 'it's' concoction, that damn avine . . .

-- It's all just fabrication- don't let it trick you, the way it's tricked her.

-- i know. i won't.

-- . . . but it was nice. the sturdiness of it. i'm not used to that, not in my dreams- not in your scape.

-- . . . please don't be mad. i dont blame you. and i know i am partly at fault for the degradation of your own. but still , , ,

-- Your world is digital by choice- mine is biological by nature.

-- There is a natural inclination for the flesh to adjust to its wearer- that is what my scape provides. It can only ever be reflection. And your own reflection is not concrete, not by any stretch of the term.

-- . . . and I don't blame you. But understand that 'Cheshire' is only able to keep it's display so lucid because you and Charity- . . . you pose different frames of reference. The grass under your feet in her dream is equally as much muscle tissue as my own.

-- And . . .

-- And you've tricked me, just now, haven't you?

-- -ha!

-- oh, well, i meant it all, too.

-- forgive me, okay?