I'm about to nod, to take a step forward, only to realize Dorian's ice has warped in my dream. This is my fear landscape after all and my mind has no room for Dorian's magic, only my own terrors. Ice becomes glass, separating the two of us. The tank again.

Looking through at Dorian, I become aware of frigid cold water, rapidly pooling at my ankles, my knees. Faster and faster.

Deep breath. I place my hands flat against the glass. Dorian made ice and I made it glass and I can make it glass again, I can shatter it.

This isn't real.