"I dreamed of Tron. First time in years."
It wasn't exactly true. Tron had featured many times in Flynn's sleep. But it was never a dream. His friend fighting, falling at Clu's hands, the scream that echoed around the corner, haunting echoes in the user's ears. The death of his friend had been replayed too many times.
But this time, this dream, the thrill of light cycles, of Tron and Ram and him as a unit, had been a good dream. Maybe it was a sign, or a weary soul.
Flynn treasured it anyway.