He twitches, shifting restlessly in place, muscles tensing, almost convulsing. His eyes are still closed.

He mutters under his breath, "Stop. Too fast... Worldmind."

The last word is a plea for help, him begging Worldmind to think of something, anything, before it's too late for...whatever it is he's dreaming about.

He sobs. Tears trickle from the corners of his closed eyes, glittering in the half-light of the forest's glowing lichen.

Then he wakes up, suddenly, dramatically, lurching upright, gasping like someone taking their first breath again after drowning. There's enough room in the little bower for him to scoot backwards, away from Grif, away from...everything, until his back is against one of the trunks of the tree. In that moment, he isn't a person, he's just a scared animal, recoiling away from everything, expecting to be hurt.

Then, gasping and wheezing and trying to catch his breath, he looks around, confused, trying to get his bearings again.