That’s a verbatim callback to a question Audrey asked Charlie during her second appearance in the revival. We never found out what Audrey meant, beyond possibly making a reference to the Jodie Foster film The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. Cooper then saw Leland one more time before walking back outside and finding Diane waiting for him.

From here, things started to get really bonkers.

Is it really you?

As they reunite, Cooper and Diane ask one another, once more, “Is it really you?” (Hey, you can never be too careful). They then take off on a road trip, crossing an electric border into the blackness Dark Cooper once drove through. “Once we cross,” Cooper warned before they left, “it could all be different.” He was not wrong.

They stop at a motel and have some very uncomfortable sex. (Diane puts her hands over Cooper’s face and looks at the ceiling most of the time, perhaps reliving the trauma of being raped by his evil doppelganger.)

It’s perhaps worth noting that before Cooper and Diane go inside the motel, Diane sees a doppelganger of herself standing under the awning, as she waits in the car. What does any of this mean? You’ll have to ask David Lynch, because it’s not really explained. But perhaps now is as good a time as any to note that New Diane’s color scheme—red, black, and white—is a little too Lodge-like to ignore. Has she sent Cooper to yet another dimension? Well, that’s one way to explain what happens next.

In the morning, Cooper wakes up, only to find a note to him, “Richard,” signed by “Linda.” Whaaaat? Actually, perhaps this makes some degree of sense. See, back at the very beginning of The Return, the Fireman delivered a message to Cooper: “Richard and Linda. Two birds, one stone.” Furthermore, Cooper also once told Cole that he was trying to kill two birds with one stone.

Cooper exits the motel, which is clearly different than the one he walked into with Diane the previous night. His car is also different. He’s also, we find out later, in an entirely different city: Odessa, Texas, which is roughly a day’s drive from Washington state.

Judy is a coffee shop

Perhaps this is meant to be nothing more than a little Twin Peaks inside joke, but Cooper subsequently finds himself a diner in Odessa—one called Judy’s Coffee Shop. There, a waitress gives him the address of one of her coworkers. Cooper goes to the other waitress’s house—and lo and behold, there he finds none other than Laura Palmer. Or is it?

Laura is not Laura

The Texan Laura Palmer goes by Carrie Page. She doesn’t know any Laura Palmer or Leland Palmer, but appears nervous at the mention of the name “Sarah.” Cooper comes into her home, nonchalantly ignoring the gnarly male corpse in the living room and instead focusing on a white horse figurine on her mantle. Carrie agrees to accompany Cooper to her childhood home for a little family reunion, and off they go. When they finally arrive, however, a stranger answers the door. She doesn’t know any Sarah Palmer. Her name is Alice Tremond, and her family bought the house from a Mrs. Chalfont.

Cooper and Laura stand outside, bewildered. He asks her what year it is. She hears someone yelling “Laura” off in the distance. She screams—and with that, Twin Peaks: The Return ends.

O.K. . . what?

This surreal, bizarre, narratively inconclusive finale naturally invites theorizing. The key, perhaps, could be determining (in the immortal words of Monica Bellucci) who is the dreamer. Was this entire series actually nothing more than the bad dreams of haunted F.B.I. agent? Was Twin Peaks just the strange imaginings of a girl coping with the trauma she’s endured, sometimes at the hands of her own father, in a unique way? Fans have also imagined that the revival could be the contents of Audrey’s imagination, the fever dreams she’s creating while in a coma or stuck in a mental hospital. (Perhaps that would explain why Audrey’s own story received absolutely no resolution in this finale; in fact, Audrey herself didn’t even appear in either Part 17 or Part 18.)

So, what’s the real truth? Your guess is as good as ours. Like a dream narrated by someone else after the fact, this 18-hour series has offered as many or more questions as it has answers; for every logical turn, there’s been a nonsensical lapse in reality. As Cooper tells Laura—er, Carrie—in this final episode when she asks what’s going on, “It’s difficult to explain.” Maybe, in the end, that should be the final word on The Return.