That's adorable. They can't stop looking at it, a parrot-green feather sticking out of his head. He doesn't even know it's there. “That's really good. I like that name.” It was what they were imagining nearly exactly — someplace safe. Someplace you can trust. No longer able to resist, they reach over and pluck the feather out of his hair.
“I don't know if I could make a church. Is that prejudice of me?” Probably, and they feel bad about it, but it's too weird.
“I had these ideas —” They reach over and pick up a loose piece of paper with doodles all over it, scribbled in colour pencil, and words, mostly locations. Vague things, like 'beach,' 'mermaid,' 'valley,' 'polar bear.' There's 'space?' too. “But I don't know. If you could have a dream, and pick what it was about, what you would pick?”