[There's fumbling noises for a while; someone getting adjusted to a new device. It's different than his last one. A wristwatch, really? That just... that sits at a really uncomfortable place.]
So what exactly is this place supposed to be? Last time I looked outside, it didn't look anything like this. And I'm pretty sure the door was still locked
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At least that place doesn't insist that our memories weren't real.
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It's not a dream. My memories, my parents, my friends-- they're real.
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[He's not going to even allow the thought that this place might actually be where he came from.]
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Same dreams... for the people who come from the same place, then? I'm just sure they're not dreams. More than a little too vivid and complicated to be dreams.
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