“I have nightmares,” Lisa said. “All sorts of nightmares.”
They stopped walking. Lisa looked at him deeply. “Can you fall asleep, Ben? Or do you think? Do you just hate and hate to think like me, like I hate to think? Sometimes I just hate and hate to think. So, then I want to sleep. But I can’t sleep. But sleep is good because I don’t think then. But the dreams, the nightmares. I have nightmares. So, I hate to sleep.”
“What kind of nightmares?”
“The worst. Aren’t all nightmares the worst?”
He pulled her closer.