"Hey ... hey, come on, wake up ..."
"Wstfglmuthafug." I peeled my face painfully off the ground.
"Oh, thank God. Look, we should get out of here." Blaine grabbed my arm with those eerily cold fingers of his and hauled me to my feet.
"Had a ... a dream, like," I muttered, wiping dirt and small pebbles off my forehead. My nose felt like it was bleeding, and my elbows burned where I'd scraped them when the explosion knocked me down.
"Riiight, right," he said, steering me away from the smoldering ruins. "Look, there'll be no end of trouble if I'm found around here, come on."
"People ... arguing ... did you ever feel like someone else was directing your life?"
He pulled my face toward him with his free hand and peered at me. "What is it you people get when you're concussed?" he asked. "Different colored pupils or something?"
"Different sized." I batted his hand away. "I'm not hallucinating, Blaine, it was just a dream."
"Right." He glanced behind us as if he heard something, then leapt for the shelter of a narrow alleyway, jerking me behind him.