He likes the dreams. Mostly. They're a nice break from all the bullshit of being awake. This one is perhaps the most peaceful- Outer space. Glowing nebulae and spinning asteroids, the beautiful trajectories of orbit and gravity. Everything seems so clear and obvious from here. He used to play Kerbal Space Program, and after a while you sort of get used to the common maneuvers, but this is on a whole other level. No looking up transfer windows from a table, no plotting out maneuver nodes with a computer's assistance, he knows the answer at a thought like he knows 9*12 = 108. There's a modicum of effort to follow the paths and project forward, but no more than a few moments.

Ah, to dance through the void and just... Float there... Letting the starlight wash over him from all directions. He takes off his shirt at one point, to absorb more.

The dream powers are strange, but oddly consistent.

He can go to a cave that feels safe and restful and secure.

He doesn't mind the cold and vacuum, and seems to feel radiation and be invigorated by it.

He can pull himself in any direction, with a lot of force. He sees the mathematics of motion intuitively.

He can absorb and shoot out lightning, though he does seem to run out eventually, like a battery.

He can latch on to mysteries and see 'clues' pop out to his vision when he wears his glasses, as if he's playing a cheap detective game.

He can take the sand from the barren dream and work it into glass with his hands, creating ugly sculpture and furniture that his perfectionism inspired him to practice at.

Eclectic. And always the same. But he dreamt about the same places over and over again before, didn't he? The mind is a mysterious thing.