Dreams. Nightmares. For a long time that wasn't a difference.
The first week after Wolf Den, when it became clear how irrational people are, I dreamt of being trapped by glass walls, of becoming frozen. Then... nothing for a long time. Till the dreams changed, grew... expecting. Unfortunately, there's always the wake-up with the realization that it's no fun to have a date and icecream and cinema when you have to beg from a senator first. Not that it's any likely to become granted. But the dreams don't care about that. She does neither. And I won't ask for permission.