"Then what is the point of you?"
The story can end now.
"This is the dream. Definitely, this one. Now, if we die here, we wake up, yeah?" Or they just die. "Either way, this is my only chance of seeing him again. This is the dream. Because if this is real life, I don't want it. I don't want it." The old folks let them pass, without attacking. Maybe because it's a dream, or maybe because they know what she is planning. The Doctor gives her the keys to the van, clasping her hand, ready to where she leads. "I didn't know... I honestly didn't, till right now. I just want him. I love Rory, and I never told him, but now he's gone."
The Doctor looks the DL in the eye, gets into the van with her. And she drives it, faster and faster, and steers into the house. And they die.
"You chose this world," the DL smiles. "Well done. You got it right. And with only seconds left!" He turns up the heat, since they've won the game. "I hope you've enjoyed your little fictions. It all came out of your imagination, so I'll leave you to ponder on that." Rory wakes, hands covered in ice, and she slowly throws her frozen self upon him. They turn their faces to the Doctor, like sunflowers, asking him what happens next.
"I'm going to blow up the TARDIS," the Doctor explains. "The Dream Lord has no power over the real world. He was offering us a choice between two dreams." And how does he know that? The Doctor steers the TARDIS into the sun, and they die.
"Any questions?" He holds out a speck of psychic pollen, from the candlemeadows of Karass don Slava. It somehow fell in the time rotor, heated up and induced the dream state. Meaning, then, that the pollen was the Dream Lord? No, of course: The Dream Lord was the Doctor. Psychic pollen feeds on what's dark inside us: "Gives it a voice, turns it against you. I'm 907, it had a lot to go on."
"But those things he said about you. You don't think any of that's true?" All of it's true. What's also true is that the darkest stuff in the Doctor is also the brightest. It's what drove the Master mad, and it's the reason he needs you. Rory realizes there's still a question, and he asks it: What happened to him, in Leadworth? He died, so Amy crashed the van. (How do you stave off the self-harm, in Upper Leadworth? You don't, apparently. Not if the option is living without your fiancé. If they think that's romantic, and not grotesque and pathetic, that's their problem.) They make out, and whatever happens next is apparently up to Amy. Amy's Choice.