[ There's another pause, long enough to make doubt creep in as to whether she's going to answer or not. But finally: ]

Because it's a dream.

[ She seems to realize that's not a real explanation, after it hangs in the air, and tacks on the rest. ] A waking dream, one you can walk into and share with someone else, hundreds of someones, but the idea is the same. While you're in a dream, absolutely nothing outside of it can hold you back: not the constraints of reality, your everyday life, your responsibilities, or other commitments. They don't matter, because it's not real in the same way the outside world is real, and you're free, like nowhere else in your life.

And part of the reason you can be is that the dream exists only inside itself. It doesn't belong with the waking world, and it would only hold your waking self back, burden it with desires it can't quench, or with guilt. You have to forget, or the dream loses all meaning. Maybe you remember that you had one, how it made you feel, but the details belong to the nightscape. And it keeps its secrets well.

[ She seems to realize she's gone off on a tangent, zoning back in abruptly with an apologetic little smile in his direction. ] At least, that's what it says on the brochure.

But you have to admit. Every one of us has a dream we'd love to live, even just for one night.