Re: [Dream Training]
Eames laughed. It was warm, throaty and utterly un-self-conscious which meant it had probably been very once and now was not. "No, darling. Occasionally to have nice dreams for other people, several times over. I spent a lot of time asleep, dreaming sugar-plums and bonbons.' He didn't mention what else happened in the little place under the clinic in the Capital.
The dream was near-perfect. The clatter of the cup on the saucer was particular to the thick china that this particular cafe served. The saucer too; drawing on memory made you just a touch lazy. The street at the end turned into something murkily suggestive of a place to go rather than any place at all. Eames pushed the cup across the table to Hannah, and leaned back in his chair.
"Now?" He glanced up from the table to the sidewalk expectantly. "I'm the dreamer. You're the subject. This place is mine. Well, it's Paris, but it's mine. My mind, my memories, my reflections. I could make it something else, but when it comes to weapons, darling, you're usually dreaming someone else's dream for them. You'll be along in a minute, shall we walk?"
He stood from the table, and held out the crook of his arm for her in invitation. "Your subconscious is in here. The people, they're from your mind. Projections."