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Next stop, Grand.

This is Grand.

Jimmy?

Are you Jimmy?

Thanks for coming, Jack.

Thanks for calling.

What's the job?

Are you serious?

Tell me you didn't bring me here for matchmaking.

Oh, give me more credit than that.

You know I wouldn't have called you if it weren't important.

These two have never met in waking life,

but they keep finding their way into each other's dream.

What's the connection?

You're the detective.

My interest is in the young woman.

The young man may prove useful to you.

Here, let me help you with that.

Do you remember your dream?

So, what's your interest?

Another research project?

Dreams are the only thing they haven't turned into a commodity.

Not for lack of trying.

You know you're fighting a losing battle.

Maybe.

So, what about the guy?

There is someone who wants to speak to you.

A potential client.

It's an odd request.

Does it pay?

Handsomely.

Then "odd" is not a problem.

Anything else you wanna tell me?

Well, only that it's the 21st century.

You might want to retire that outfit.

It screams "detective"

and not in a good way.

Mmm.

I'm gonna need names.

At least.

You'll get what you need.

Oh, God, I hate when she does that.

You were really moving.

Were you having a dream?

Yeah.

Was it a good dream?

Let's see...

-Hey, what time is it? -Hey!

I'm sorry. This interview just has me a little frazzled.

"Frazzled"?

We talked about this for hours.

I know.

I know. Don't worry.

I got it.

I see it's been a full year since your last job.

Okay, we're doing this. Um...

Well, I've been doing a good bit of freelance work.

I didn't want to take just any job.

When I heard about this job, I knew I had to go for it.

Eye contact.

Yeah.

What questions do I have for you?

Well, the only question I have is,

what can I say or do to prove to you

that I'm the right candidate for this job? I know I am.

A little less Walken.

Okay, more Brando.

I come to you, a highly qualified candidate,

and this is how you treat me?

Funny.

Any other details you can think to share?

Uh, no.

I know you have this weekend off for your tutoring,

but we're still on for Monday, right?

Uh, sure.

Sure.

I think we're really making some progress here.

This will take a little bit more time.

Thank you.

Doors closing.

Next stop, Kedzie.

Throw it to me. Throw it to me.

-Sammy!

-Maggie! -Oh, it's so good to see you.

Somebody's here early.

Yes. Someone was here very early again.

Sammy, why don't you go find a book for me to read to you?

She can't keep doing this, Maggie.

This is the second time this month.

Maggie: How long was she out there alone?

I was here at six. She was here.

I tried to call her mother--

I'll be here at 5:30 on Monday.

I'm gonna have to give her a warning.

No. I can do this.

Please?

-A book. A book. -

No. I'll take care of it.

We can be liable.

I know.

But let me handle this. Let's see how it works out.

So, what do you think your greatest strengths are?

That's a great question.

-

Your strengths?

Yes, um...

You know, I don't know if I've had my greatest strengths tested yet.

I've enjoyed every single one of the jobs you see listed there,

but I haven't had the one job which I'm looking for.

The job that would really stretch me

in--in--in every, um, direction.

And what job do you think would put those strengths to the test?

Boy, that's another great question.

-Thanks. -

-Uh, you-- -Go ahead.

The job that would put your strengths to the test.

Well, certainly, a job like this.

Uh, this, what you do, with all your distractions?

Interviewing people?

Uh, no, no. I just mean, you know,

do I answer this phone or that phone,

or--or the text or the door,

or what must be an emergency versus distraction, just--

You think this is difficult?

It's 4:20 in the morning and your cell phone goes off.

It's your CHRO calling you

to get on the first flight to DC

to meet with a new hire

who has locked herself in the bathroom

of a VP of Finance's hotel room.

She's crying and threatening a lawsuit

after a late night dinner turned into a 2:00 a.m. gropefest.

But before you get on that flight,

you know you're gonna have to make a dozen phone calls

because at 9:00 a.m.

you're scheduled to meet with an attorney

about an employee that the IT department

believes may be downloading terabytes of porn.

That was Tuesday.

You don't really want to see my portfolio, do you?

We leave assessment of illustration and design talent to the CCO.

Ah. So, this, uh,

this was just to see how I handle all that other bullshit.

Exactly.

Funny.

Now, does that look like the work of a depressed man?

Hello, Tommy.

Douchebag.

Whoo!

in the Jacko hat

in the Rooney shirt

the room in her daddy's flat

in an alley-cat

next door

were just like you

Do what you want to

that it wants you to

more than it means right now

reaches keeping secrets

to make a meaning

I'm moving through a space

beats the oldest groove

but we have shrunk it

We're having a ball

I can see

speak to me

ain't hiding

but we ain't sliding

let them be

leave it

you will see

till it withers you

You got things to do

it's them, man, it isn't you

believe that until it's true

not to show its face

to hold your space

deep in your sinews

on the coldest days

he can't shake

on his mind

the guilt and the heartache

trying to battle with time

with the blood on his hands

with her hands on her hips

Stay bland

then it don't exist, right?

I can see

speak to me

ain't hiding

but we ain't sliding

let them be

leave it

you will see

you're ready to receive it

on finding the differences

the bonds that bind us

when the rhythm hits...

Amy: I was getting worried.

Jimmy: Sorry. Long day.

Oh, God. Are you in that bathtub thing?

The Jimulator.

Registered trademark, if anyone's listening.

Amy: Gross.

So, were you in interviews all day?

I didn't make it past the first gatekeeper.

What? Why?

You didn't say anything...

weird, did you?

What, like... "Don't kill what you can't eat"?

Yes, like that.

I still stand by that statement.

But I told you I wouldn't, so I didn't.

Then what was the problem?

I don't know.

She seemed pretty stressed.

There were all these noises.

Uh, did-- Well, did you send her a thank you email?

"Thank you email"?

For what? She didn't even look at my work.

For taking the time to talk with you.

What if you sent her an email saying that you'd like another shot?

That she didn't get a chance to see the real you.

The "real me"?

The "real me" showed up and was shown the door.

She doesn't give a damn about the "real me."

I think there's a part of you that's relieved.

Well, there's definitely a part of me

that believes there is a line somewhere

between showing interest and kissing someone's ass.

You have to show them that you want the job.

What I really want right now is more bubbles.

Bubble inventory is at a critical low.

Have you thought about getting in touch with Dr. Fein?

He seemed to help you last time.

You're breaking--

Amy, are you--

Sarah: Maggie.

Maggie!

Sarah?

Sh--!

Who are you, and why are you following me?

I... thought you were following me.

Why would I do that?

Wild fascination?

Pheromones?

Maggie: Pheromones?

You like Emily Dickinson?

How do you know I like Emily Dickinson?

Hey, kid. You want a job?

Yeah, you.

You looking for a job?

Obviously, you're gonna have to put some pants on.

I'm not gonna ask you a third time.

You want a job, come to my office.

Yeah?

Um, hi. I was calling about the help wanted sign.

No. It says, "Now Hiring."

Yeah, but isn't that the same--

No. It's not the same thing, slugger.

I don't need help.

I have a client with an unusual ask.

Uh... who is the client?

If you're interested, come by the office. You know where I'm at.

How... how would you know that?

I'm a detective, Ace.

-Maggie: Hi, Sammy. -Maggie!

Oh. I didn't know anyone was here this early.

Uh, yeah.

Come in.

I, uh, saw your note on Friday--

I'm so sorry about all of this.

I just started this new job.

It's alright.

My ex, her asshole father,

is totally out of the picture.

I can't afford an at-home nanny

and I just really need this job.

Okay. Uh, here.

Here's my cell phone number.

If, for some reason, I'm not here when you get here,

please call me.

I just don't want her waiting.

Like I do?

That's not what I meant.

People can be so judgmental.

Life just really sucks right now.

Sammy, you want to go find our favorite book?

Wait. Can I at least say goodbye?

I'm not that bad of a mommy, am I, sweetie?

Jack: Come on in.

Have a seat.

Just sit down-- Just move that stuff off that chair.

You want a juice?

I've been juicing.

Now, it looks like the kind of thing

they dug out of a crocodile's ass,

but it actually isn't bad.

Uh, thank you. I'm good.

Hey, how did you know I was outside the door?

I have a security camera.

Right.

Let's get to the task at hand.

I have a client who's looking for some help.

-What's the job? -Are you particular?

They're looking for somebody

who can easily access deeper levels of dreams.

How do you know that about me?

Jesus...

Do you hear yourself saying this shit?

Where did you meet me?

Sorry, I get it, uh...

You're a d--detective.

I'm a Dream Detective, ace.

Big difference.

You're an artist.

Well, I--

Artist, yes or no?

Yes, I am--

I'm an illustrator.

You're doing a bang-up job of selling yourself, pal.

My girlfriend says the same thing.

Is she the one from the--the bookstore dream?

Wait. Do you know that woman?

Try to keep up with the big kids here.

Would I ask you if she was your girlfriend

if I knew who she was?

Yeah, right.

You have an appointment tonight,

9:00 p.m. sharp.

This is the address.

That's it?

That's all you're gonna tell me?

They need an illustrator--

Someone who can easily access deeper levels of dreams.

Don't sell yourself short.

What's the compensation?

You'll have to talk to them. They have money.

I'll leave it to you to negotiate your own details.

I'm assuming you'll show up?

Sure. Yeah.

I, uh... I'll look into it.

But...?

I was just wondering

if you could maybe help me

find out who that girl in the dream is.

Look who has a new appreciation for the Dream Detective.

Look, I'm not trying to be stalker-y or anything, just--

No, I get it.

In all honesty, I'm curious about your connection myself.

It's usually a shared-fate thing.

You think?

No. You think.

And you feel it.

Capiche?

-Yeah. -

Go on. I got some digging to do.

You're welcome.

Yeah, uh, thank you for the lead.

Don't screw it up.

-Jimmy: Yeah.

Jack Yancy, Dream Detective.

Juke!

What do you know? What do you say?

Yeah, we've been through the whole thing

about the surveillance.

He just left here.

Afraid?

I think not.

Hey, Juke, how long have you known me?

Oh, yeah?

Maybe you wanna bet?

Alright, let's keep it comfortable.

Let's say 500--

No, let's keep it adventurous.

Let's say $1,000. Let's say a yard.

Only, I'm not gonna tell you dick.

Just let him do his job.

We're pretty far along.

We have very promising data.

I'm sorry. It's just--

The thing is,

I have the worst dreams when I'm at home,

but I'm just exhausted.

The nightmares are worse at home?

I have far fewer here.

If I had half a brain, I should probably continue here,

but thing is, I have to be up earlier for work.

Oh. You just want to get up earlier?

An hour.

We can do that.

Dreams usually manifest in REM sleep,

but you've been averaging six significant events a night

-of varying lengths. -Six?!

It's on the high side but not unusual.

Most people forget the majority of their dreams.

I could definitely do without a few of mine.

Can I show you something?

Have a seat.

These are the unfiltered signals

we're getting from multiple inputs,

including readings on eye movement,

tracking how you may think you're seeing in your dream.

Now, what we've done is create a loop of impulses,

signals back into the ventrolateral preoptic nucleus,

located near the front of your hypothalamus.

Here is what we were able to see.

This is an image from the other day.

-Think of it as

trying to listen in to multiple parts

of your brain in conversation having one dream.

It's a symphony of inputs.

Carol and I are working on ways

to refine and filter your signals.

No pressure, right?

What if you could literally look your nightmare in the face?

Drag it out into daylight?

Why would I wanna do that?

Because it's your dream.

Maybe there's something you need to see

on the other side.

That's easy for you to say.

You don't know what might be on the other side.

Let's try again, together.

One more week.

One more week.

Looking for someone?

This is a dream, right?

Uh, you tell me.

The only other time I've been here has been in another dream.

What's your name?

Why?

Like the letter?

What?

Your name is "Y"?

No, Maggie, alright?

Relax, Miss Alright.

A friend of mine asked me to find out a little more about you.

Does he wear boxer shorts and black socks?

He's been known to.

I don't usually dress like this.

None of my business.

You sure you two haven't met on the other side?

You mean in real life?

No. I don't mean that at all.

This is pretty freaking real, isn't it?

I remember him from a couple of my dreams.

The last one he was standing in this bookstore...

with Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass.

Whitman, huh?

Then he asked me about Emily Dickinson and was gone.

You looking for him now?

I don't know. I'm just dreaming.

Dreaming about him is certainly better than the nightmares.

What every guy wants to hear. "You're better than a nightmare."

No, I didn't mean it like that.

Uh, do me a favor,

please don't tell him I said that.

I--I won't.

Tell me about the nightmares.

I really, I--

I don't wanna talk about those.

Yeah, but you tell the doc, the researcher.

How do you know that?

It's my job to know these things.

Look, if you want to talk about this,

or you find yourself in trouble--

Trouble?

You'll find that when you need it.

When you wake up.

One more thing.

A colleague would like to show you something.

Your choice.

Andromeda: Why are you doing this?

Why are you letting that doctor into your dreams?

I just wanna make it stop.

You ride?

I know this bike.

1968 Triumph Trident, T-150.

You Jimmy?

I hear you're looking for work.

Aww, fuck this.

-Yancy said you'd have some-- -Jimmy: Wait, wait, wait. Uh...

The work, is it... legal?

Totally legal!

I'm Juke.

Jimmy: Uh--

Take a ride with me.

You decide you want to take the job,

-then take the bike. -Ah--

If not, you bring the bike back here. No questions asked.

You said you ride, right?

No, no. I just meant, um...

My dad had one of those when I was a kid.

If he didn't teach you how to ride,

please tell me he at least took you riding with him.

No?

Man, that's just bad parenting.

Get on.

-Jimmy: We hunting vampires?

You got beer out here.

This your office or something?

Look at the boy scout, all prepared.

Well, you remember that bike I told you about,

turns out, this was the only thing my old man left behind.

That and a pile of dirty laundry.

At the risk of being rude, what are we doing out here?

And what's the job you keep saying--

Relax.

There's more where that came from.

For now, humor me.

I want to learn a little bit more about you.

Yeah, but we must've passed, like, a dozen bars on the way out here.

Thirty-two.

Okay.

Why a cemetery?

You know memento mori?

Never mind. Latin shit.

I like coming out here because...

sometimes I have to be reminded of all these wasted souls.

How do you know they're wasted?

You're obsessed with that bike.

I remember that Trident better than my old man.

All those nights in the garage just...

I was holding the flashlight or handing him a socket wrench.

He's dead?

You said you remember the bike better than him.

He left when I was eight.

My mother seemed almost happy to see him go.

But all those nights in the garage,

I suppose neither my mom or I was surprised that he left

to "follow his dreams."

Juke: Not surprised.

But you never saw him again?

I get a call from a half-brother

I never knew I had, letting me know that the old man had died

in a suburb an hour outside of Pittsburgh.

He's 21,

and his name's James, and he's in tech,

-and he has more money than God. -Juke: Wait.

You're brothers and have--

Half-brother.

And, yes, we have the same name.

-Ouch. -Mmm.

What's the deal?

-Jack Yancy said you had a job. -Oh!

Come on.

Don't stop now.

I want to learn all about what you really want.

Jack Yancy, Dream Detective.

What do you mean he didn't show up?

Name it, Jimmy.

What do you want?

An explanation.

Try again.

Think big.

No, no. I gave him the right address.

Just tell me what's going on.

Now.

Or what?

You think you can make it back to the main road?

You're not in a position to demand anything.

But bargain?

You can always bargain with me.

I have a pretty good idea who's screwing around with this.

Let me get back to you. He isworth the trouble.

He promised me.

This is your guy.

It's the oldest story in the world, buddy.

Good versus evil.

Light against the darkness.

Seriously, you're gonna try and scare me with some grade school,

black-versus-white bullshit?

Tell me about the greys, college boy.

-Your choice. But if you're smart... -

-Whoa, hey! -...you'd best get your ass into that pump house

as fast as you can.

Juke: Sit down, Jimmy.

This is Detective Augustine.

He's the good cop.

I'll meet you there.

-Shit.

Augustine: You recognize this individual?

Yeah.

That's my half-brother, James.

When was the last time you two had contact?

Three or four months ago.

Look, I really think I should be talking to an attorney right now.

Shit!

Like he said, I'm the good cop.

Now, why would you need an attorney?

Look, man, I--I just met this guy once, okay?

Uh, we talked on the phone a few times.

He lives out in Silicon Valley.

The purpose of your meeting?

Mine?

Curiosity.

He called me out of the blue to let me know his--our father died.

He wanted to meet me.

Why?

To meet me? Look me in the face?

It was only after our father died

that he even knew I even existed.

So, he had that on me.

Yeah, that's his. He proudly showed it to me.

"Proudly?"

"Follow your dreams" was something his...

our father used to say.

And you remember him saying that?

Yeah. He had it tattooed.

Why?

Ask him.

It, uh...

"Follow your dreams" became his great inspiration.

Like the motorcycle.

Jimmy: Right.

It sort of represented this whole mythology

of what my father said he couldn't talk about.

-Augustine: "Mythology"? -Because he couldn't talk about it.

James had imagined this whole outlaw life.

Roadside bars, women in back rooms.

And then he found out that the great rebel

left a wife and kid in Chicago.

-What about you?

What about me?

What did you imagine

about the guy who said "follow your dreams"?

Did you imagine him out on the road like some outlaw

with all those women in back rooms?

I suppose, but I guess I got the better end of the deal.

James had to find out that

this great inspiration was based on bullshit.

But weren't you the one abandoned for all those dreams?

Sure.

But I wasn't some millionaire

trying to impress his father,

only to find out that the dreams were bullshit.

Left depressed and wondering what the great dream was.

What was his dream?

To create an app that gets adults

to obsessively tap touchscreens

like--like monkeys?

What about the rebel you hated?

He ended up seven hours east.

Not hanging out in biker bars,

but settled down

with a wife that was not your mother

and a kid that was not you.

It must have changed everything you thought about him.

Not really.

He was an asshole before and after I got the news.

James: "Follow your bliss."

What?

That's what he used to say,

"Follow your bliss."

It's from Joseph Campbell.

Even after I showed you the tat,

you got it wrong because you've been saying it

and believing it since you were how old?

You're a piece of work.

No mystery.

No curiosity.

All three of you got it wrong.

None of you could figure it out.

If I were you, I'd take the deal.

What?

Roxanne: You think you can change him?

Don't tell me you think you can change him.

I don't want to change him. I just think he needs--

He needs? No, no, no.

They're big boys. They have all the ingredients they need.

It's not that complicated. It's a penis and a paycheck.

You don't believe that.

You are dating a stand-up comic who still does local mic nights.

John is an investment.

Besides, the humor is

reasonable compensation.

At least he makes me laugh,

and that is more than you can say for--

His father died.

Amy, honey, I love you,

but he's been grieving since the day you met.

Do you ever consider that this just might be the man's default setting?

But have you seen his artwork?

You've met him once.

And that's all I need.

Besides, the whole thing with the bathtub--

No. I am sorry that I ever even told you that.

It's just weird, and not funny-weird.

What brings you to this part of town?

We need to talk about your mother.

What can I get you to drink?

Nothing, thank you.

Is everything okay?

Of course, everything is not okay, or I wouldn't be here.

You don't respect your mother enough

to even return her phone calls.

Oh, God, you scared me.

Yes. I know. I'm sorry. I will.

Is this what they teach you at the universities now,

-disrespect for your parents? -Papi--

Do you know that she cries at night about you?

I get home very late from work,

and I tutor on the weekends, but you're right--

You find free time for the mayates, but you can't be bothered--

Please, don't use that language.

It's bad enough that you wasted your college education

to become a babysitter.

It's called Child Development, and it's what I love doing.

You are not too old to get a law degree.

Please, not this again.

You are smarter than this.

That's your dream for me.

There would be a place for you at the firm.

And it won't be long before I retire.

Every time I come home, you bring--

Oh, por favor.

When was the last time you came home?

Christmas.

Christmas.

The UPS delivery man,

he spent more time at Christmas.

Because you go on and on--

Because you don't listen.

What about Frankie?

Your brother...

He has more experience with our legal system than I do.

Mm-hmm. He does.

Why can't you just let me--

Because you are wasting your life!

You graduated at the top of your class.

You said you wanted to be an attorney.

I was 17.

And--and I knew that's what you wanted to hear.

What do they pay you? Hmm? Nada.

You can't bully me like mamá.

She said we were alike, you and I.

That must've hurt to hear.

Both stubborn.

Tell me, do you think you can raise these children

better than their own mothers and fathers?

Of course not.

But their mothers and fathers have full-time jobs.

Sometimes two jobs. It's about... economics.

I came here with nothing.

And I'm very proud of the life you have provided for us.

Then why can't you stick with your own kind?

Let them take care of their own.

Just so you know,

-they're killing Mexican babies in this city too, Dad. -Oh...

Remember when you took us to Campeche?

-Ernesto: Of course. You were-- -Eleven.

I wanted you to understand your heritage, but, clearly--

Remember that Mayan temple we visited in the jungle?

How the guide told us how they sacrificed young boys?

Remember Frankie cried?

-He was just-- -Four years old, yeah.

Remember what you did after?

You called him into your room that night,

next door to ours.

You said he had embarrassed you.

You told him he was never, ever

to cry about such things.

You said blood sacrifices

were the way the Mayans had stayed in power.

You said blood sacrifices are what civilizations are built on.

Absolutely right.

What you and your-- your sentimental friends

won't accept is that every civilization

is built on blood sacrifice.

Papi,I agree. I do.

-We are living in Mayan times right now. -

Every day, another child gets sacrificed.

We may not know who in the morning,

but by the evening, another one will be murdered.

Perhaps, even an entire classroom of children.

No. This is different.

No. We know it will happen.

And we accept it.

We participate in the blood sacrifice.

Perhaps, it should have been you in the room that night

not Frankie.

You've given me enough lessons already, papi.

Your mother's wrong.

You and I...

are nothing alike.

You... are far too weak.

Juke: Still don't believe?

Good and evil too simple for you, college boy?

This is insane.

That's what people usually say

when they encounter a darkness this deep.

Juke: Time to make a decision, boy scout.

Jimmy: What do you want?

Juke: You know what I want!

Juke: How hard is it to sell your soul

when you don't believe you have one?

-I have a soul. -Juke: Sure.

When was the last time

you even thought about it?!

Now, fame... power?

You want to impress that girlfriend?

Tell me what you want, Jimmy.

Just say it.

Uh, it's not a lot.

Juke: What's a soul even for?

What's it worth to you?

Maggie!

Sorry. I was daydreaming.

What were you dreaming about?

I was dreaming about... you.

I dreamed that you were all grown up,

and you were an astronaut

in a silver rocket ship

zooming through space.

Where was I going?

To a planet where...

where everyone is happy.

Weren't you gonna be there?

No.

No, I wouldn't be there.

I'd be here on Earth.

You have to be there.

You're the happiest person I know!

-

Time to stop fucking around.

Nimeda: Give me your hand.

Ooh!

Next time somebody sends crows to help you,

have some respect.

Maybe help out?

A couple of my friends almost got shot back there.

Enough.

Who are you? Where are we?

Nimeda: It's a complicated question.

For at least 700 years,

this region has been home to the Potawatomi and other tribes.

You'd call it "Chicago."

I told you, this guy's an idiot.

Jack Yancy recommended you.

We waited for you last night.

Then, we spent the rest of the night trying to save your ass.

You were the ones with the job?

Do you recognize these?

Why would I recognize these?

It can take some time. No worries.

Yancy had a good feeling about you.

Yeah, well, after tonight, I have my doubts about him.

What happened was not his fault.

Someone just got to you before we could.

Jimmy: So, uh, this job...

Jack Yancy was saying about,

that you need an artist?

If he's right, you'll figure it out.

Until then, we've got your cell phone.

Hey!

Police are investigating the death of an eleven year old.

One of 22 people shot in Chicago

over a 12-hour period.

The girl, Shamiya Adams,

was at a birthday celebration with seven friends Friday night

in the west Garfield Park neighborhood,

when a bullet from outside the home

ripped through the wall, and struck her in the head.

She was taken to Mount Sinai Hospital

and pronounced dead at 7:33 a.m. Saturday--

Andromeda: Might I offer a piece of advice, doctor?

You should spend more time in your own dreams

before poking around in other people's.

This is a dream?

All this around you...

and those lights under you.

These are not only the dreams of the people,

but dreams of the city itself.

Have a seat. Drinks on me.

What are we doing here?

I need you to reconsider

the research you're doing.

What?! Why?

You're opening a Pandora's Box.

It's unknown territory

and that frightens some.

Dreams may be the only thing humans haven't put up for sale.

Every fetish and fantasy

is searchable, downloadable.

I'm not selling anything.

Not yet.

And not you.

But dreams are one of the last things

that are keeping us from becoming commodities.

Is this about Maggie and her nightmares?

Let's keep names out of this, shall we?

You're poking a screwdriver

inside the body electric.

Someone's going to get a shock.

Dreams are neurochemical events in the brain.

"Just."

You forgot the word "just."

"Just a neurochemical event," right?

As if it could all be reduced to the limits you define.

I'm a doctor.

By bringing Maggie's dreams out into the light,

perhaps... perhaps we can relieve her of her nightmares.

You've seen those creatures

that live at the bottom of the ocean,

some in near total darkness?

Dr. Wandervogel: On TV, yes.

Andromeda: The pressure at those depths

would kill most terrestrial animals.

What if you brought them up

to shallower depths?

You'd kill them.

You could examine the corpses, of course.

The same way you might be able

to see what a dream is,

but not "why" a dream is.

If exposing it to light didn't kill it,

our waking minds would,

but dreams need to be dreamed.

We don't solve dreams, doctor.

Dreams heal us.

I gotta say, you guys don't screw around.

So...?

We think he can do the job.

Great. What's next?

You'll receive your payment.

I mean, for the kid.

When he wakes up, we'll show him the site.

And he'll get his cell phone back?

Nimeda: Of course.

In the meantime, don't you have some unfinished business?

I'll take care of it.

Look, I don't know how you got him down there,

-but I'm assuming-- -He'll be taken care of.

Jack: Good. I'd hate like hell to think

he's gonna have to swim home.

Sarah was five years old.

This is how she always told me:

"Five!"

She didn't like to talk much.

Developmentally, she was closer to two or three.

One of our specialists said she had a mild form of autism,

but I always suspected something else.

She was the oldest of three

and a disappointment to her parents.

They were the kind of control freaks

who hated the fact that their child

wasn't playing piano sonatas at six

or doing long division.

Mommy and Daddy were frustrated,

angry, really,

that Sarah wasn't fully potty-trained,

that she didn't interview well,

and the high-priced kindergarten

they had tried to pay to take her had passed.

At five...

little Sarah was a failure.

But there's something Mommy and Daddy didn't say either.

Something they kept out of their interview.

Not because they were ashamed,

but because they had convinced each other

they were right.

They knew that if they had tried to spank this child

for lack of concentration,

if they physically abused her in any way,

it would leave marks.

So, they devised a way,

both of them,

and this is what sometimes brings me to my knees.

When Sarah soiled herself,

they'd take her in the bathroom,

strip her of her clothes,

and as they scrubbed her,

submerged her underwater.

Now, you might think that even a young child would fight back.

And in that fight, might bruise herself in a way that others might see,

but even here,

smart Mommy and Daddy

made sure to set thick towels

around the tub.

One afternoon,

when Sarah was having a particularly hard day

and I needed to change her diaper,

I took her into the bathroom.

As I removed her clothes,

she started trembling

and crying.

I wrapped a towel around her shoulders

and took a damp washcloth--

I thought I could turn it into a kind of game.

But the moment those drops of water

hit her skin,

she screamed like an animal, burned.

I held Sarah,

naked and wrapped in a towel, for half an hour.

I was so shaken,

I couldn't write up the incident report until the next day.

When they questioned

Mommy and Daddy much later,

they said that they'd read somewhere online

that the record for holding your breath under water

is a full 22 minutes.

So, they made sure they timed it

to never exceed half of that.

Ten minutes.

No more.

They were quite proud of that.

All of our genius for control.

Mommy and Daddy had enough money

to never spend a night in jail.

Mommy and Daddy claimed, in their defense,

that they did not beat her.

She was never bruised.

She was well-fed.

For heaven's sakes, they paid for daycare.

And this is how,

mediated by money,

Mommy and Daddy

believe they have no blood on their hands.

Five years old.

That's how old you were,

wasn't it, Emily?

Your brother, Alexander,

was just two years older, wasn't he?

Do you remember that dream you had that afternoon you dozed off?

How you dreamed that your brother's spirit sat up in bed,

reached out, and slipped into you.

As if he was taking over your body.

Remember that dream, Emily?

It frightened you enough to tell your mother

you didn't want to go back to that hospital.

And you never saw Alex alive again.

Now, you hope to take dreams apart,

defuse them like a Navy Seal defusing a bomb.

This is the assignment.

-What was that back there? -A test.

As much for you as for us.

We need you to paint

another, larger medicine wheel

to our exact specifications.

Here.

-Nimeda: Not today,

but in the next few months.

You'll find an installment for the work

and money for painting supplies.

Give him his phone, too.

Jimmy: Uh, I suppose it's in bad form

to ask how much I'm gonna get paid for this?

More than enough.

How do you know I'm gonna be able to do this?

Create... what you're looking for?

It's in your blood.

-Oh, hi. -Maggie: Hi, pumpkin.

I was just getting ready to leave a note.

Right. Come on, Sammy.

-Excuse me? -Come on in, sweetheart.

No, what did you just say to me? Who do you think you are?

Lady, I'm prepared to be here for your daughter,

but at the moment, I have zero interest in dealing with you.

I'm the one that pays your salary.

No.

I don't get paid a cent to come in here early.

I didn't ask you to do me any favors.

Believe me, I'm not doing youany.

What is this? You come in a little early,

so you can lay a guilt trip on me?

Do you have any kids of your own?

Yeah, I didn't think so.

You have no idea what it takes.

Hey!

Open the door!

-Open the door! Sammy! -Come on, honey. Let's go play.

-Samantha, open this door! -You're mommy is upset, I know.

Open this door!

Have you ever made a mistake?

Open this door!

Open this door! Samantha!

-I make a lot of them. -Open this door!

Come here, pillow.

Whoa!

-She took my daughter! -Woman: Ma'am, please.

Was your daughter ever out of your sight?

Oh, so, what, I'm on trial now?

I also happen to be very late,

and there's a damn good chance I could lose my job.

Yeah?

Man: Chicago Police.

Yeah, hang on!

One second.

Hey, what's going on?

-Are you James? -Where have you been?

Ma'am, I need you to step back. I need to ask a few questions.

Are you James?

Jimmy. James was my dad. What's going on?

What's going on is your girlfriend, unable to contact you,

contacted 911.

Oh, shit.

The caller said you'd been suffering from depression and suicidal thoughts.

I have, but--

Anything I need to worry about in here?

Uh, knives, weapons?

People really tell you--

Uh, no.

No, officer, uh, no weapons.

Listen, my phone died,

and I don't have suicidal thoughts.

She says you do.

Okay, yeah, I used to, but, I mean,

I--I don't have them... currently.

Perhaps the two of you can talk this out?

Yeah, I think we need to.

Nice look.

Where have you been?

Uh, facing my fears?

You win?

I was wrong, Amy.

What?

It was "follow your bliss," not "follow your dreams."

I am not even going to pretend

to know what you are talking about.

You're right. Never mind.

Um... I'm sorry.

I should have called.

I don't care who or what

is helping you with your "bliss."

Just, please, understand that someone

cared enough to come looking for you.

I'm sorry.

Let's both stop saying that.

I am glad you're safe,

but... I can't do this anymore.

Thank you.

Yeah, it's Jack.

I have to set up a meeting.

I'll deal with the poet myself.

Alright.

"An Explanation for That Flock of Crows" plays]

has settled

and you lean back

its root-juicy kiss

Alright, alright, alright.

Tonight, we have back with us a special guest.

And for those of you who haven't heard him before,

no matter how many beers you buy him,

or how many times you question his veracity,

he's gonna tell you, without fail,

-that he is Walt Whitman. -

And for those of you who have heard him before,

I have politely and insistently asked him

not to read every stanza of the Leaves of Grass,

but if you're a--but if you're a glutton for punishment

or merely admire him,

you can catch him after the show.

He'll read you every poetic word he ever wrote.

So, welcome to the stage Uncle Walt Whitman!

Thank you, Mark.

Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of dreams,

I fear these supposed realities

are to melt from under your feet and hands

Even now your features,

speech, house, trade,

manners, troubles, follies,

costume, crimes,

dissipate away from you,

Your true soul and body appear before me

They stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce,

shops, work,

farms, clothes,

the house,

buying, selling,

eating, drinking,

suffering, dying

Whoever you are,

now I place my hand upon you,

that you be my poem,

I whisper with my lips close to your ear,

I have loved many women and men,

but I love none better than you.

Well done, old friend.

Well done.

-Can I ask why? -Maggie: I think--

I lost my job, and I'm feeling a little lost, overall.

-If we need to adjust the schedule-- -No.

-I know I signed an agreement-- -No, no.

You're free to end the sessions at any time.

We have other sub-- other people.

But your level of brain activity--

That's me. Over-reactive brain.

No, hang on. That's not true at all.

Please, I don't want you to assume

that there's anything wrong with you.

I do think the sessions have helped.

Then why not continue?

Go home. Think about it.

I've thought about it, believe me.

A lot.

Can I ask you something?

Of course.

Do you remember your dreams?

Sometimes.

Bits and pieces.

Why do you think that is?

What do you mean?

Why remember dreams when you're awake?

What do you think we're supposed to do with dream memories?

I'll have to get back to you on that when I learn more.

For now, you have my email.

I hope you'll let me know how things go.

Thank you, doctor.

Emily.

Call me Emily.

Jack: Walt!

Jack!

Jack Yancy!

You still got it, old man.

As I live and breathe!

Dear friend.

Comrade in arms against fear,

intolerance, and nescience.

Let me get you a belt, pal.

If you're inquiring about another assignment,

you should make that two libations, my friend.

Hey, Dave, can I have two of whatever Mr. Whitman is drinking these days?

How you been, buddy? I haven't seen you in a long, long time.

Battling mendacity.

Singing to those in need of an old song made new.

The mendacious.

Walt, them pukes are everywhere.

This is a tall order, my friend.

But wait.

Before we speak of work matters...

-...poetry!

Amen, Walt.

Man: This is called "Ode to My Rideshare."

God help this generation, Jack.

-Man: You, you, you are my rideshare. -Goddamned internet.

From the heart, son!

Speak it from the heart!

-Oh! -I'm so sorry!

Wow.

"Wow"?

Yeah. yeah, I'm gonna go ahead and stick with "Wow."

That's...

Didn't we meet in a...

bookstore?

I think we did.

...Emily Dickinson.

-Good memory. -Yeah.

And you have a friend who dresses like a detective from the '40s.

Jack. Jack Yancy.

Wait, did you talk to him?

I think I have his card somewhere in here.

Uh, do you live around here? I mean...

Do you have a name, detective?

Sorry. Jimmy.

Maggie.

And no, I'm coming from a job interview.

Oh. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Well, if you don't have another interview,

if you wanna come with me, I'm just headed to the el.

Or not, you know, that's--

Yeah.

I'd like that.

Cool.

Jimmy: I have to admit this is all still kind of strange.

Have you ever met anyone from a dream before?

Oh, you think I'm that kind of girl?

-No. -Of course not.

Just you and that detective.

By the way,

he told me you wanted to know my name.

Oh, okay. Well, um...

this got even more awkward.

Remind me to thank him for that.

Can I ask you something?

I was talking about dreams with a friend the other day,

and I asked her why she thought we remember

these bits of our dreams,

rather than just have them disappear when we wake up.

Why remember anything at all?

What did she say?

She didn't have an answer.

You see that sign?

What sign?

Train station sign?

Yeah. How it just kind of flashed right by us.

Maybe dreams are like train station signs.

They just appear to remind us

that we're going the right way.

Headed in the right direction, or warning us that we're not.

Do you think you're headed in the right direction?

Given the dreams that I've had recently?

Yeah.

Yeah, I think I am.

Tell me about your mural.

Aw, man.

I'm supposed to be working here.

You are the owner of this fine establishment?

No, the owners hired me to paint this mural.

Ah, a painter!

An artist!

A pleasure to meet you, sirrah.

Walt Whitman.

The Walt Whitman?

Walt: It's a big world, there may be others.

So, let's say "a" Walt Whitman.

I see you have already begun work.

My apologies

for micturating so close by.

Have you been inside?

-No. -Is it safe?

I've spent a good bit of time here,

so, I certainly hope so!

Come.

Walt: Ah, you Cathedrals of Commerce!

Maggie: Looks like they lost a few of the faithful.

No. They simply work and worship from home.

The consumers are more faithful than ever.

What do they plan on doing with this place?

No idea.

I have dreamed of this space as a sanctuary.

For you?

The sky, the clouds,

the open air are my sanctuary.

No, a sanctuary for those

living amidst this epidemic

of fear and violence.

The owners told me

a medicine lodge stood here once.

Of course, it did.

We live on the upper two inches of this earth.

Imagine, a medicine lodge

beneath our feet,

rising up.

Life keeps breaking through.

In my lifetime,

we have vanquished typhus

and smallpox

and other deadly bacilli,

but we continue to breed hate

and feed fear.

We compress it,

like gunpowder in a shell casing.

You okay?

Do you want to talk about him?

For some strange reason, I keep thinking about

that motorcycle he used to talk about.

His father's motorcycle.

It was like a totem.

It had a power over him.

Something he always wanted,

and at the same time, always feared.

And the more that he talked about it,

I began to imagine

what that could mean

for me.

I imagine getting on that motorcycle,

becoming a bird.

Flying down Lakeshore Drive.

Andromeda: If those who lead you say to you,

"See, the kingdom is in the sky."

Then the birds of the sky will precede you.

If they say it is in the sea,

then the fish will precede you.

Rather, the kingdom is inside of you,

and it is outside of you.

When you come to know yourselves,

then you will become known.

Have you decided on a use for the building?

Or found a tenant?

Sugmuk: Not at the moment.

We're just beginning reconstruction.

Jimmy told me this was once the site of a medicine lodge?

It is.

Say it.

I have an idea.

Walt: There was a child went forth every day,

And the first object

he look'd upon,

that object he became.

And that object became part of him for the day

Or a certain part of the day,

Or for many years

The early lilacs became part of this child,

And grass

and white and red morning-glories,

and white and red clover,

and the song of the phoebe-bird,

or by the mire of the pond-side,

And the fish suspending themselves

so curiously below there,

and the beautiful curious liquid

And the water-plants with their graceful flat heads,

all became part of him.

His own parents,

he that had father'd him

and she that had conceiv'd him in her womb

and birth'd him

They gave this child more of themselves

than that,

They gave him afterward every day,

They became part of him

The doubts of day-time

and the doubts of night-time,

the curious whether and how,

Whether that which appears so is so,

Or is it all flashes and specks?

Men and women crowding fast in the streets,

if they are not flashes and specks

what are they?

The streets themselves

and the facades of houses, and goods in the windows,

Shadows,

aureoli and mist,

the light falling on roofs and gables

of white

or brown

three miles off,

The strata of color'd clouds,

the long bar of maroon-tint

away solitary by itself,

the spread of purity

it lies motionless in,

The horizon's edge,

the flying sea-crow,

the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud,

These became part of that child

who went forth every day,

and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

You look good.

What's it been, 1,000 years?

It's a while.

Give this to Yancy.

I always honor my debts.

You give it to him.

He'll enjoy it more coming from you.

Yeah. That's what bothers me.

Why do you do it, always bet against them?

That sort of goes on my job description, no?

You have to admit,

I've had a few notable successes.

But on the whole,

as a species--

Don't act so innocent, Andromeda.

You're a big part of my problem.

-Me? -Come on.

There are good dreams, bad dreams--

The very act of dreaming tells them there's something more.

Beyond.

This city has changed.

Juke: Every city has changed.

Andromeda: They are dreaming less and less.

Juke: A nation of insomniacs is good for business.

Andromeda: I'm not worried.

The dreamers always manage to find each other.

There's a nice, uh, cafe up this way.

Okay, yeah.

There's bacon and eggs for breakfast.

-Lunch, dinner-- -I could use a coffee.

-Oh, yeah, definitely. -For sure.

What's up?

You know that guy?

Just met him once.

You wanna go in there and say hi?

No.

-Um, once is more than enough. -Okay.

"An Explanation for That Flock of Crows" plays]

has settled

and you lean back

its root-juicy kiss

Without any maps

turned blue

thought of champagne

The lumps on your head

what my mother knows best

at a distance

bon-bon

for guests to admire

against your back door

you're enjoying yourself