"No, wait-" That wasn't what he'd wanted to happen. He lifted his left hand to scrub through his hair, and then almost dropped his tablet because his grip with his right, prosthetic hand wasn't the best. He almost dropped the device.
When he had everything in his hands again, he looked up, frustrated. But he wasn't frustrated with Ahsoka. "I still want to talk to you. I- My dream was about you, but also about a bunch of other things that I don't understand, and at the same time I somehow know them- But I don't know them-" He paused, deepening his look of frustration. "I don't know what's going on or why. I feel like I'm losing my mind, because how do I just know things-" he moved his right hand away from his tablet in demonstration of distance. "And then things just- I just- it's like my knowledge and understanding of things cuts off.
"And this," he looked down at the tablet, trying to think of how to explain himself.
"I have ADHD. I work really hard at not saying the very first thing that pops into my head. Because," he grimaced, "Those words can be- often are offensive or reckless. It's... really hard sometimes to stop myself if I'm upset. So this," he gestured by moving the tablet. "It's an exercise- a kind of external form of thought processing, and the purpose is to do it privately so I can just say whatever comes into my mind first because only I'm going to look- or hear it."
He looked around, then back at Ahsoka. "I want to talk to you and ask you things. I just want to do it after I'm calmer or so frustrated... so..." He looked around again. "Maybe I should walk around and do it? If you want to stay..." his voice started to trail off because he realized what he was asking, "here, with... the dead people."