She looked up at him sleepily. Apparently it was working. "N-no, Hector." She looked up at him. "Hector?"
"Yes," he said, backing toward the door, "what is it?"
"Hector, why can't you be—well, assertive, like the man in the dream? The dream Hector."
"I am. I am exactly how I am. You dream very accurately."
It was a mistake. Her eyes opened wider. She seemed more awake. "But Heck—"
"Sleep," he coaxed. "It's only a dream. Sleep."
She wanted desperately to believe him, and that was a big help. Her eyelids fluttered, grew heavy, closed. She breathed regularly. Heck went to the door.
And tripped a fourth time.
"Hector!" Patty shouted.
He closed the door behind him and ran. He heard her footsteps pounding across the bedroom floor, heard the doorknob being turned. He had to vanish, here in her living room, at once. If he vanished, if the teleportation really worked and took him away instantly, before she could open the door and see him, she would be convinced she had dreamed everything.