"It's more a case of I don't know what to say. I don't recall the dreams, at all. I remember feeling unsettled, and fire. I remember fire." He rubbed his hands on opposite arms. "It felt like I was there, trapped in the fire. I don't know how much is the dream, and how much is real memory." He shook his head.
Drawing his sleeve up, he revealed a faint discoloration of the skin at his wrist. "I was born in The Great Chicago Fire. My school burned down when I was a kid." The fingers of his other hand caressed the mark. "I have similar scars on my back, on my legs, from other fires I've been caught in." He frowned at the memory.
"I just don't know why I'm dreaming of the fires, now. I don't think it's the fires I know. It's different, in the dreams, but I can't remember how, and I don't even know how I know it's different I just...know."