One night the boy woke from a dream and would not tell him what it was.
You dont have to tell me, the man said. It's all right.
[The Boy:] I'm scared.
[The Man:] It's all right.
[The Boy:] No it's not.
[The Man:] It's just a dream.
[The Boy:] I'm really scared.
[The Man:] I know.
The boy turned away. The man held him. Listen to me, he said.
[The Boy:] What.
[The Man:] When your dreams are of some world that never was or of some world that never will be and you are happy again then you will have given up. Do you understand? And you cant give up. I wont let you. (262.1-262.11)
He woke in the darkness, coughing softly. He lay listening. The boy sat by the fire wrapped in a blanket watching him. Drip of water. A fading light. Old dreams encroached upon the waking world. The dripping was in the cave. The light was a candle which the boy bore in a ringstick of beaten copper. The wax spattered on the stones. Tracks of unknown creatures in the mortified loess. In that cold corridor they had reached the point of no return which was measured from the first solely by the light they carried with them. (383.1)