[His change in tone, that fact he isn't yelling at her like everyone else is, makes the change in her obvious. All at once she turns softer, smiling at him widely.
Even though she knew that wasn't exactly what Dean thought of her at all. After all he had shoved her away every single time she tried to hug him.]
He doesn't like me much. He says I shouldn't speak of the things I see. But I never speak of them to anyone, apart from them that dreamed it.
None of them like it. Does everyone live so caged up in their minds? [She lived in theirs, in hers. There wasn't so much of a difference, and when reality blended with subconscious, certain lines were never so clear in where they were drawn. ]