Contrast
The first time the dream comes, he jolts awake, shame and sweat sticky on his skin. For the first time, he dreamed of her, not his Michael. He knows this because they're too different to be confused any longer.
His Michael had been greedy, demanding, violent in her lust. Lorca appreciates that; he taught her that.
Yet this...
It is only a dream. Her wide eyes, her coy lips, her gentle whispers, are all phantoms of his imagination. So too the way she draws him close, holds him to her burnt, bloody heart.
He can't forget it.