Most nights she doesn't remember the details of the nightmares that wake her. The pieces are all too familiar, and Hoyt is a frequent star, mixed in with every other terror that has touched her life, large and small. And the scalpels, of course. Always the scalpels. When she wakes in the morning her hands ache fiercely, and she's not sure if it's because she has been clenching her fists tightly during the night, or if it's the sensory memory of the scalpel blades buried in them, tearing at her flesh with every involuntary twitch.
But lately there has been a new component. One that she remembers all too vividly. Recently Maura has been centre-stage in those nightmares. She is the one holding the scalpel. Jane can feel it pressed to her chest, the point pricking her skin, just above her heart. The sensation is vivid enough that every time she walks into the morgue she can feel the cold tip of the scalpel at her heart again. It makes her palms sweat and her hands shake.
She's not sure whether dreams can actually kill a person, but she thinks this one might. Maura would know of course. But it's not like she can ask, not without having to explain the nightmare to her. That might be what drives the blade in.