Twin Peaks S 3 E 14 type TV Show network Showtime

ABC genre Crime Where to watch Close Streaming Options

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I’m a big fan of 1st Wave, the Sirius XM channel that focuses on the new wave/synth-pop/proto-electronica rock music of the very late ’70s and the most neon-glowing years of the 1980s. I was listening to 1st Wave on my way home today, and right as I was parking my car, host Richard Blade was about to introduce a new song. I love Richard Blade — love how his English accent sounds like a party hosted at a nightclub designed by Ridley Scott where everyone dresses like Jem and the Holograms. And right before I turned off the car, I heard Richard Blade talking about how much he loves David Bowie.

“Huh,” I thought to myself, “That definitely means David Bowie will be on tonight’s episode of Twin Peaks.”

This is the mood that the revival season of Twin Peaks has put me in, 14 hours in. I look for clues in dreams and in overheard conversations. I watch old David Lynch movies and see obvious correlations that no god-mind could have possible created accidentally or on purpose.

So although I am not your usual recapper — Jeff Jensen’s on a spirit journey 253 yards east of Jack Rabbit’s Palace — I hope I can somewhat coherently guide you through an hour of Twin Peaks that explored a couple different outer regions of a couple different notions of a universe. Hey, I did know David Bowie would appear. (Separate thinkpiece: Is Sirius XM’s Richard Blade secretly the Fireman?)

In Buckhorn

Some eagle-eyed viewers have been noticing that the “Rancho Rosa” production logo at the beginning of every Twin Peaks episode has been changing colors. This week, it was black and white – a signpost, maybe, that we were about to get sequences set in the past and in the monochromatic place where the giant named ??????? has been lingering this season.

There was a flashback and a dreamplace waiting for us at the Hotel Mayfair. But first, there was a phone call. Gordon Cole called the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Office and was surprised by a familiar voice and an unfamiliar voice.

The familiar voice: Lucy. “You’ve been there all through the years, Lucy?” Gordon asked, a hint of poignance in his half-deaf screams. This season of Twin Peaks has been full of people who’ve been there all through the years. Think of Norma and Shelly, serving sacramental coffee at the Double R, or Carl, who hasn’t moved away from the Fat Trout Trailer Park (even though the Trailer Park itself moved).

RELATED: Hear the latest from EW’s Twin Peaks podcast

Lucy told Gordon that she hadn’t been here the whole time. She’s been home, and to Bora Bora. Gordon listened patiently, or maybe he couldn’t hear her. She transferred him over to the unfamiliar voice: Sheriff Truman, but not Harry. Frank informed Gordon that they had found missing pages from Laura Palmer’s diary – pages that implied there were two Agent Coopers. We remember that Cole saw a vision of Laura Palmer outside his hotel room not too long ago. As we soon discovered, Gordon Cole has a magical ability to watch random scenes from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me anytime he wants to.

But first, Albert told new recruit Tammy all about the origin story of the Blue Rose Task Force. A woman named Lois Duffy was a suspect in a murder. This was in Olympia, Washington, because the battle between good and evil has always inevitably trended toward the Pacific Northwest. Two young field agents named Gordon Cole and Phillip Jeffries were investigating this Duffy woman — when they heard a gunshot outside her room.

(Pause to imagine: Gordon Cole as David Lynch, circa mid-’70s, with this hat. Phillip Jeffries as David Bowie, circa mid-’70s, wearing these sunglasses. Lois Duffy is, let’s say, Catherine Deneuve.)

Cole and Jeffries ran into the room and saw a wounded woman. That woman was Lois Duffy. She said, “I’m like the Blue Rose.” She smiled. She died. She disappeared. The woman who shot that woman was also Lois Duffy. “By the way,” Albert deadpans, “Lois Duffy did not have a twin sister.”

That other Lois — the original Lois, surely — wound up hanging herself. Tammy has a think on the meaning of that statement. The Blue Rose does not occur in nature. Ipso facto, the dying woman was not natural. She was conjured. What’s the world? “A tulpa.”

You know, guys, a tulpa! The Buddhist-derived concept of creating a being out of sheer mental/spiritual consciousness! No, I had never heard of the term either, but a bit of research adds some intriguing new layers to Black Lodge mysticism. It’s clear-ish that Lois Duffy had a doppelganger, but thus far in Twin Peaks the doppelgangers we’ve seen seem to be generated by the curious entities lingering within the Red Room and beyond. Tammy’s mention of a “tulpa” could upend that trajectory. She seems to be implying that Lois Duffy conjured her own double.

Just to free-associate here: It’s always been easy to theorize that when Agent Cooper walked into the Black Lodge, there was a nefarious Cooper Doppelganger waiting in some dark corner where all the doppelgangers linger, ready to take his place. Did Cooper somehow conjure Mr. C — similar to how Leland maybe-sorta conjured BOB, in one of the 10,000 explanations for what BOB is? Is the Black Lodge a place that creates nasty beings who invade our Earth, or does our Earth create the Black Lodge out of miserable human nastiness? And if that’s true, how come all the Palmer women can pull their faces off?

Sorry, wait, getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about how all David Lynch’s favorite women are related. (Next: Evil Half-Sisters)

“Deputy Diane reporting,” said Diane. By hook or by crook, she’s become part of this Blue Rose Task Force. That means talking about that night, with Mr. C long ago. Mr. C talked about Major Briggs that night, it turns out. (That’s all she’ll say about that night, for now and maybe forever.) Albert gave Diane a crucial detail, missing from her briefings thus far: a ring found inside Major Briggs’ body, inscribed, “To Dougie, With Love, Janey-E.”

“Oh my god,” Diane said. “My sister’s name is Jane. My half-sister. She’s married to a man named Douglas Jones. But everybody calls him Dougie. And her nickname’s Janey-E.”

How could this be true? Of course this is true. Of course the E in “Janey-E” stands for Evans, of course one David Lynch muse is playing the sibling of another David Lynch muse, of course both actresses are playing women linked (romantically, maybe, in both cases) to Agent Cooper, played by Lynch’s onscreen alter-ego Kyle MacLachlan. And of course, after a sprawling season of strange coordinates and prison breaks and a journey all across at least one Dakota, this is how Gordon Cole finally discovers something is waiting for him in Las Vegas: because Diane’s half-sister is Janey-E.

Or maybe Diane is lying. This is a performance by both parties, the Blue Rosers and Diane. She’s been waiting for them to ask about the ring; they know she’s hiding something. Gordon Cole calls up the Las Vegas FBI office, and asks them to hunt down this “Douglas Jones.”

(The local branch director — played by Stan from Mad Men! — seems particularly invigorated by the impossibility of finding the right Douglas Jones: “Wilson, how many times have I told you,” beating his fists against the desk, “THIS is what we DO in the EFF BEE AYE!!!!“)

Diane left, performance concluded. Perhaps this means that next week — next week, surely! — Gordon Cole will meet “Douglas Jones.” Gordon mentions to the FBI agent on the phone that the Joneses are wanted in connection with a double murder, and “may be armed and dangerous.” We know that’s not true – but you wonder if the Vegas FBI guys are being inadvertently prepared for another couple, who are armed and dangerous, and who actually have been involved in a double murder (or three) (or 10). Could it be that this is yet more divine providence circling over our man Dougie — that these FBI agents will arrive at the Jones household right as Chantal and Hutch are about to shoot the Jones family? Stranger things have happened, like a cherry pie in the desert.

But now let’s depart Buckhorn, and go somewhere much stranger, yet also more familiar…

Inside Gordon Cole’s Head

Which is also David Lynch’s head, of course, so you maybe spotted some confessional piece of autobiography when Cole announced, “Last night I had another Monica Bellucci dream.” Yes, that Monica Bellucci, Italian actress, international It Girl of at least two and a half different decades.

Lynch loves to cast actresses as spiritually ascendant visions of innocence and experience — “angelic rapacious corroded sanctified sexuality,” to reduce Laura Palmer in Fire Walk With Me to a mere five definitional traits. So of course Lynch dreams of Bellucci. She was in The Passion of the Christ as the Magdalene — a saint who walked with the Savior and was later said to be a prostitute by men who never knew her. She was Persephone in the latter Matrix movies, a torpidly omniscient digital being bored of her decadent unlife, an android dreaming of electric love.

That name “Persephone” conjures up a myth that any Twin Peaks scholar has studied at least once. A young girl is kidnapped by a dark being from the underworld. And this is not some happy fairy tale about the girl being rescued. Although she is released from bondage, she is forced to live part of every year in that underworld, and when she’s down there in a cavern darker than any Black Lodge, she’s forced to be the wife of the god Hades, who was assaulting women when BOB was just a glimmer in the Experiment’s eyeless facepulp.

Bellucci has a role in another myth, more contemporary and just as eerie if you overthink its sexual subtext. For she was one of modern demi-god James Bond’s many lovers, appearing in the movie Spectre. That film isn’t one of the better ones in the 007 franchise, but it does become significantly better if you pretend the last half-hour is a Mulholland Drive-ish deathdream fantasy. And the best part of Spectre is the part nobody remembers: white words on a black screen, before anything has happened: “The dead are alive.”

(Bellucci first rose to prominence on the international film scene in Malèna, playing the faraway object of a puberty-stricken youth’s affections. She also became arthouse-famous in the provocative, maybe-stupid-but-definitely-powerful film Irreversible, a.k.a. “The French Film With the Ten-Minute Rape Scene.” Both parts fit eerily into the Twin Peaks Laura Palmer spectrum, but we’re five paragraphs in here and I should probably get to the dream already.)

In the dream, Gordon Cole was on assignment in Paris. Monica called him — sure — and they met at the Creperie Plougastel. Cooper was there, in a strange way: fading in like an image dissolving in a film, his face hidden. (This was all in black and white — and on this season of Twin Peaks, monochromatic photography has meant so much: a flashback or a flashforward, a dream palace or maybe the only real place in the universe.)

Monica said the ancient phrase: “We’re like the dreamer who dreams and then lives inside the dream.”

Ten years ago, David Lynch introduced at least one screening of Inland Empire with that exact phrase. He claimed it was from the Upanishads, ancient texts that provided the basis for Hinduism and all manner of religion and philosophy. The full quote Lynch read was:

“We are like the spider. We weave our life and then move along in it. We are like the dreamer who dreams and then lives in the dream. This is true for the entire universe.”

Apparently, Lynch read this out loud while Chris Isaak played background music (Chet Desmond! We found you!), but actually, that seems to either be a wondrously loose translation or a purposeful misquote. According to a few sources I just discovered on the internet oversoul, the actual text is more like this:

“As the spider creates the cobweb out of its saliva, it lives and plays in it and at the end the same spider swallows up the cobweb, similarly the God, the Lord creates the whole universe as the act of His thought. He manifests in it and again He withdraws the whole universe in Himself.”

So: The Dreamer is God? We are like God? The filmmaker is God? God is a filmmaker? Or maybe God is a fireman, and his house has a movie theater, and when he gets concerned about the movie he sends a glowing orb containing Laura Palmer down to Earth?

Gordon Cole understood that, fine. However, Monica had a follow-up question: “But, who is the dreamer?”

She looked past him, indicating that Gordon should turn around. He did, and he saw his younger self. It was a long-ago minute on a long-day day: 10:10 a.m., Feb. 16. Agent Cooper walked into his office and said he was concerned about a dream he had. And of course this was the day Phillip Jeffries appeared.

And there was David Bowie, standing right in front of Miguel Ferrer, both of them looking just like they did in 1992, when Fire Walk With Me hit theaters (with an axe!).

They didn’t look young then. They look young now. In cinema, the dead are alive. (Next: Kiss From a (Blue) Rose in the Grey (Lodge))

There’s a theory about Fire Walk With Me that I love – one espoused by Jeff on the FWWM episode of our podcast — that the whole Phillip Jeffries scene in the movie was a dream. That’s an idea that has arguably been kiboshed by this season — see, all the people in the apparently real world talking about Phillip Jeffries! But I wonder if this strange return to the David Bowie cameo was meant to further complicate our scrambled perspective on that reality.

In his “memory,” Cole paid special attention to one moment in particular: Jeffries pointing at Agent Cooper, saying, “Who do you think that is there?” Cole reacted with shock, admitting that he hadn’t remembered that. “Now this is really something interesting to think about!” said Cole, a moment that is best understood as David Lynch literally getting on your television to scream at the highest possible volume “HEY GUYS, FIRE WALK WITH ME IS ON SHOWTIME ANYTIME!”

But Albert was also suddenly remembering that moment. Was it a memory, truly? Or was this another kind of tulpa – a dream of a memory that is catching like a virus, that Albert “remembers” now even though it never happened? Could it be a message from Phillip Jeffries to his old partner Gordon Cole — his version of the message the Log Lady gave to Hawk, to look into his own personal history? Does Phillip Jeffries even exist?

Let’s not go too far down this rabbit hole, since we literally have another rabbit hole that we have to go far down. Let me just conclude by pointing out one intriguing allusion bubbling through this sequence. Cole meets Bellucci (and her friends!) at a Paris café. One thinks of Ellen Page and Leonardo DiCaprio in Inception, at another café in that city: two people who are familiar with dreams buried inside of dreams. Page’s character is named, of course, Ariadne — another figure of Greek myth, screwed over by some dude.

At Jack Rabbit’s Palace

The adventurers set off up the mountain to Jack Rabbit’s Palace. There was Sheriff Frank Truman, who prefers roast beef-and-cheese. There was Deputy Andy Brennan, who prefers just cheese. Bobby and Hawk took the turkey-and-cheese and the ham-and-cheese; they’ve got eclectic tastes here at the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Department.

Into the forest they walked, like lost children in a fairy tale. They saw the path to the old Listening Post where Major Briggs worked, long ago, all gone now. There was a magnificent dead tree that Bobby called “Jack Rabbit’s Palace.” It looked like a throne, or like some creature crowned with ruin. “We’d sit here and make up great tall tales,” said Bobby, and for a moment he looked like the boy he once was and the hero from one of those tall tales. A man, dreaming of being a boy, dreaming of being the kind of man who can only exist in dreams.

Andy reminded everyone to put soil in their pockets. They walked 253 yards due east, and what they found there was surprising and inevitable. There was a woman there — someone we know as “Naido,” who greeted Agent Cooper in the strange Purple Room and seemed to sacrifice herself so that that he could be free. She fell into space, but apparently space has a rock bottom here in the forest. There was a pit of oil, like the one at Glastonbury Grove, indicating a doorway between worlds. There was a strange fogsmoke, initially, but that gave way to an unearthly yellow light. And then there was a strange hole in the sky — like the hole Gordon Cole reached into over in South Dakota.

The men looked up, astonished. But the camera lingered on one man: Andy, who held the hand of the woman on the ground. Perhaps this is important. Perhaps we are meant to think of another time that Andy (and a Sheriff Truman) found a naked woman out in the wilderness. Andy was there when they pulled out Laura Palmer, and he couldn’t stop crying. Poor, sensitive Andy — but was there strength in his humanity? He disappeared, and suddenly he was…

Elsewhere. A familiar elsewhere. Inside a gray room, with a chair for two people. The last time we were here, it was the very first new scene of this season: Agent Cooper and the being we still called “the Giant,” a message about “Four Three Zero” and “Richard and Linda” and “Two birds with one stone” and “It is in our house now.”

We expected to find Agent Cooper in a place like this. But Andy? Here in this strange room, which either seems to be inside a tree, or made of trees, or perhaps this is what a forest dreams about when it dreams about death? The character we’ve known as ??????? sat down and said, “I am the Fireman.” He held up his hand to say hello.

The mind wanders, and unravels. Is this a figure of good: someone who is there to stop the fires, when they break out on Earth? Certainly, he is some kind of opposing number to the Woodsmen — although fire needs wood to, like, be. Or maybe we should go Greek again. Recall the myth of Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and gave it to the measly humans. Was Prometheus the first Fire Man? Or did he make us all Fire Men?

The Fireman gave Andy…something? Like, a thing that contained smoke, or maybe it vacuumed smoke, or maybe it was a phallus, or maybe it was a box? Look:

Image zoom

Smoke funneled over Andy, and he looked up, and he saw another screen. What a marvelous place this Fireman lives in, screens everywhere full of helpful recap montages! It seems to me that the Fireman was filling in Andy on, well, everything. We saw the Experiment unleashing BOB, and the Woodsmen around the convenience store. We saw the strange Woodsman saying “Got a light.” But we also saw that poor girl running through the courtyard of Twin Peaks High School – an image from the Twin Peaks pilot, which recurred in the opening credits of Part 1. (There was also a strange echoing sound effect throughout this scene, which appears at the start of the opening credits every week, right as the eyes of Laura Palmer appear in the fog, before the theme song begins.)

Andy saw Laura Palmer, and angels, and the two Coopers. He saw a phone ring. He saw himself, and Lucy, him guiding her into a room. He saw the telephone pole that has always tormented poor Carl Rodd. The smoke came out of the recap screen, and Andy blinked away…

…And we saw the police officers fast-moving around Jack Rabbit’s Palace, the same strange time-skipping way that the Woodsmen moved around the convenience store. They had no memory of what happened to them, but I believe they owed Andy their life. He had reminded them to fill their pockets with soil from this place — and somehow, the wormhole returned them here, to solid Earth inside of points further.

And here was Andy the hero, holding the strange eyeless woman in his arms. “We need to get her down the mountain,” he said. “She’s very important, and there are people that want her dead.” (Next: The Right Hand of Doom)

This newly assertive Andy stored the rescued woman in a prison cell. Also in a cell: Chad the malicious, who was being watched closely by Sheriff Truman all along. Andy told Chad what we’ve all been thinking: “You’ve a very bad person, Chad. You give good policemen a bad name.” And then Andy walked out with his lady love Lucy, leaving the strange woman and the awful man — and a third prisoner, a drunk, who kept echoing what everyone else was saying (just like Dougie?).

Could it be that, after this whole strange season of bifurcated Coopers and enough law enforcement agencies to fill the Roadhouse, it is Deputy Andy who has been anointed as the hero Twin Peaks needs? Why him? Why not him?

Outside The Great Northern

James is still cool. He shows up at the Roadhouse, wearing the same biker-boy clothes he wore back when Donna Hayward was still in town. And he sings the same old song he used to sing when at least one woman who looked like Sheryl Lee was still walking around unkilled.

But in Part 14 of Twin Peaks, we learned the horrible truth about James. He has…a job. Like every other adult, really. He’s a security guard at the Great Northern. Perhaps he recognizes the strange irony: The Great Northern is owned by Ben Horne, another man who loved and lost Laura Palmer. Maybe he doesn’t know that; maybe he knows, and doesn’t care. James remembers being 23, but that was a long time ago, back when he still celebrated his birthday.

We caught up with James and his pal Freddie — someone who actually did appear way back in Part 2, walking in behind James at the Roadhouse, wearing a green rubber gardening glove for no apparent reason. In a sequence that was every freezeframe-obsessed Redditers’ dream come true, Freddie gave James The Secret History of the Glove on My Right Hand.

And what a history! Seems that Freddie was living in London Town six months ago. A young man, a boy really, but he could already see the route his life was going. At the pub every night — when he should be helping people! He jumped on a high stack of boxes, for fun, and was sucked up into, quote: “the vortex of this massive tunnel in the air.” He found himself floating in thin air, way up somewhere — “like a void.”

He met a bloke named the Fireman, who gave Freddie some advice (a command?): Go to the hardware store; find a package with just a right-handed green gardening glove inside. “Place the glove in your right hand,” the Fireman said. “Your right hand will then possess the power of an enormous piledriver.”

“So I woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head, ran downstairs and had a cup…” Freddie says. He and James laugh – it’s the beginning of the middle section of “A Day in the Life” by the Beatles. I believe it’s the section most often attributed to Paul McCartney — a peppy description of a regular person’s day in the life, coming out of the mist of lysergic Lennon singing “I’d love to turn you on.”

The end of this section of the song, of course, is: “Somebody spoke, and I went into a dream.”

Freddie walked to the hardware store, and went into his own dream. There was the box with a single glove. He tried purchasing it, but the clerk wouldn’t let him. This man was a classic Jobsworth, a dysfunctional functionary. Freddie threw down money for the glove, and walked out — and the Jobsworth chased him. Freddie slipped on the glove, was tackled, popped the Jobsworth one. There’s a crack. “I fear I’ve snapped his Gregory,” Freddie tells us – as in “Gregory Peck,” as in cockney rhyming slang for “neck.”

Eerily, we don’t hear what happened to the Jobsworth. It seems that, in the moment of first using his piledriver fist, Freddie remembered something else from the dream — like Gordon Cole, remembering that moment with Phillip Jeffries. “Once you’ve got the glove on,” said the Fireman, “go to Twin Peaks, Washington, United States of America. And there you’ll find your destiny.”

“So here I am, Jimmy,” said Freddie. “On your birthday. Many happy returns!”

(Possible fun fact: “Many Happy Returns” is the name of one of the best and most thrilling and most demoralizing episodes of The Prisoner, the classic weirdo thriller that has inspired several brilliant creative minds, including Twin Peaks co-creator Mark Frost. There’s an episode of The Prisoner where the protagonist has an evil-twin duplicate doppelganger. But I’ll save further thoughts for my dissertation.) (Next: Bloody Mary, Indeed)

Freddie’s story ended with another curious twist: He went to catch a flight to America, but he already had a ticket. We can theorize wildly about what his destiny is – surely there are a lot of people in Twin Peaks worth punching.

“Why you?” asked James. “Why do you think the Fireman picked you?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” said Freddie. He asked the Fireman the same thing: “Why me?”

The Fireman said: “Why not you?”

No doubt James was pondering this strange, deeply spiritual saga while he walked in to check on the furnace. He heard that strange sound that has so bedeviled Ben Horne lately. Was the furnace making that sound? Or was it coming from that door in the corner? James looked, and we saw no more.

At Elk’s Point #9 Bar

Out of vodka and out of tomato juice, Sarah Palmer had to go out to get her kicks tonight. She ordered a Bloody Mary at the bar and sat silent, thinking — or not thinking, since that is a happy side effect of drinking.

Sarah has haunted this season, or this season has haunted her. We saw her back in Part 2, sitting in her old house full of murder and assault and nightmares, the television her escape and her security blanket and her whole life. We saw her freak out over turkey jerky, an old madwoman not able to shop for her own addictions anymore. We saw her visited by a kindly police officer, but of course he was too late, like all the police officers always were for poor Sarah Palmer. There is some kind of tragic weakness in Sarah Palmer, this fallen person — but perhaps there is a strength, too.

A long-haired man approached her at the bar. He desired her, or thought he did. He wanted to drink with her. “Mind your own business, please” she said.

“That’s not very polite,” he responded, not getting the hint. (And she said please, so she was being polite, technically.)

“Would you sit back where you were, please?” she tried again.

“It’s a free country,” he said, repeating the phrase, stressing the first syllable of “country,” his tone of voice suggesting this country wasn’t very free at all, actually. He called her a bulld—, and worse. He asked her, “You like to eat c—?”

“I’ll eat you,” said Sarah.

That was it. Like a lot of mediocre men, this doofus could dish it out but couldn’t take it. “Like hell you will, you miserable bitch,” he said. “I’ll f—ing pull your little lesbo t—-s off!”

Sarah Palmer turned toward the man.

She pulled her face off.

Inside was black and white and smoke and a sound we could almost remember — a deep electronic technological hum.

There were two little stabbing…things. Daggers? Sharp legs? Claws?

And there was a hand.

And there was a mouth, smiling.

“Do you really wanna f— with this?” said Sarah, or maybe it wasn’t her.

She put her face back on, and bit the man’s Gregory right off.

There was no blood on her mouth, and she acted shocked. “He just fell over!” she told the bartender. “With half his neck missing?” asked the bartender. He called out to someone: “Honey! We got a dead one at the bar!”

The bartender turned to Sarah, and said: “We’ll see about this.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sure is a mystery, huh?”

Okay, so: The one other time we saw someone pull their face off in Twin Peaks, it was Laura Palmer, way back in Part 2. There was a bright shining light within her — a very different spiritual interior from what we saw inside of Sarah Palmer.

But you wonder about that first moment, and this one, too. Has Laura’s power somehow taken hold within Sarah? Or is it possible that she’s inside of Sarah, now – that it was her making that strange noise inside the Palmer household, or her inside of Sarah’s brain freaking out about turkey jerky and talking to her mother with her mother’s own mouth? The bartender said, “We got a dead one at the bar,” and maybe he was more right than he knew. Was this Sarah and Laura Palmer, united in one body, striking back against the assaultive males of Twin Peaks, one neck at a time?

Once more, with feeling: The dead are alive!

At the Roadhouse

Another evening, another pair of young adults hanging out at the Nuthouse talking about people we don’t quite know. One woman chastised another for hanging out at the Nuthouse. (Weirdly, Chad had earlier described the jail as a “f—ing nuthouse.” Are all the dreams colliding?) “Don’t go in that nut place,” said the woman. (Apparently, her friend is getting high in her room – on Sparkle, maybe?)

This woman who’s getting high is a thief, too, lifting sweaters from her friend Paula. And she has a strange story to tell about Billy. She saw Billy jump over a six-foot fence, run into their backdoor. There was blood coming out of his nose and mouth — which was actually something Audrey had a dream about. Billy left as quickly as he arrived. And this woman’s mom and Billy had a thing.

“What’s your mom’s name?” her friend said.

“It’s Tina,” the young woman responded.

For no apparent reason, there was a deep rumble on the soundtrack. We know that this is somehow a clue: Audrey was talking about Tina, another lover of Billy, when we met her again a couple episodes ago. This would seem to be proof that Audrey isn’t in a weird coma deathdream…but that strange note on the soundtrack makes you wonder if there’s something odder going on. Has Audrey become like Diane Selwyn or Nikki Grace, dreaming up her own doppelgangers? There’s a strange circling around this information, blood on the floor, blood on the wall. “Me and my mom,” says the woman, “I don’t remember if my uncle was there.”

There’s a long pause. The two women stare at each other.

And then the MC introduces Lissie, and everyone cheers, and everything is back to normal, as normal as any dream can be.