She checks in with reality

Amy stood on the sidewalk. She thought about her feet on the ground -- yup, there were her shoes, there was the sidewalk. She tried to feel the wind on her face -- yup, there was the wind. She thought maybe she was dreaming, and if she could identify something strange ... well, something else strange ... then maybe she could find comfort in the weirdness of it all.

She took a few steps toward Wexler Tower. The building was made of granite. There was a brass plaque on the outer wall that read "800 FIFTH STREET - WEXLER TOWER," which was accurate. She touched the plaque. It felt like brass. The granite felt like granite. She pressed her shoulder into the glass pane of the revolving door, and it spun. Everything totally normal.

She spun all the way around in the door, and came back outside again. She thought, for a moment, that she might trick the world into doing something else weird if she broke her usual pattern and actually didn't go inside. But nothing was different. She went through the revolving door again, and into Wexler Tower.