It's getting harder and harder to focus on the dream, as if it's being forcibly drawn out of him - and isn't that what is really happening - and for a moment, panic strikes. He's losing it, he's giving it up, how could bottling something so elusive ever work? This isn't happening, it's a scam, it's razor blades, spider legs slicing his vertebrae to pieces--

Shh.

He gasps, closing his eyes. Breathes in, deeply. Warmth. He feels warm, and for just a split second, he can feel arms sliding around his torso.

Shh.

He can feel the small bottle draw it in, all of it, and it's okay. He'll be fine. He won't fall. He won't lose anything but the bad dreams, not even as the sensations fade until he can't feel the arms, the hands ghosting over his face anymore. He feels suddenly dizzy, and he wonders if it's over. So soon? Already? Is it over yet?