“Lucid keeps a journal of every child she's walked out of nightmares — names, dates, the monsters retired. This week three entries un-wrote themselves, the ink lifting off the page like breath off a window, and the children in question don't remember the dreams either. Dreamweaver wove a recovery illusion to call the memories back and got, instead, an empty room with one chair, facing the corner. He's performed for thirty years. He's never been booed by an empty room before.”
Lucid's dream-journal has started erasing itself.