You're a dream. Like everything else.

No," said her dad, starting to shout, "what I can't handle is you being dropped off after midnight by some kid who thinks he's a vampire!"

"And now you're dating a vampire?" Danny asked, intrigued. "You know they bite right?"
... ... ...
"How can he be a vampire when he knows so much about slayers?

He opened his palm and saw that the watch remained. Still there. Still real.
Varen looked up at the figure that stood atop the fountain.
With a howl of rage, he made it burst apart.
He fell to his knees amid the wreckage and floating dust.
Crumpling into himself, he released a choking sob, knowing that he, too, belonged to the ruin.

To Madeline,

This subtle second self
Sheaf of me
Can do more than you ever could.
Like you, it can leave
And go
Somewhere else.
The night splits me in two.
I disconnect —
To sink, to fall, to fly
And rage
Forever
And always
Without you

As though sensing her heightening alarm, Pinfeathers halted his advance.

"I can’t help it that I’m susceptible to you," he whispered. "You know that. It’s just that you’re so...unreal...and so I have to touch you. If only to be certain that I’m not the one who’s dreaming. You see, I hear that sort of thing is going around.

Though Isobel could recall only a few specifics regrading the appearance of Poe's wife-a handful of vague characteristics picked up during her study with Varen, retained from the one or two glimpses she'd had for her portraits- Scrimshaw, it seemed, had forgotten nothing.