Northern Exposure (1990–1995): Season 5, Episode 12 - Mr. Sandman - full transcript
The citizens of Cicely start having strange dreams. They soon realize they're sharing each others dreams. Holling has a revulsion to food.
Dépêche-toi, allons-y.
- T'es sourde, ou quoi?
- You speak French.
- Sort of.
- Qu'est-ce-que t'attends? Let's go.
- Oh, you're Canadian.
- Roule donc, idiote. Go.
Why are you calling me names?
There's no reason to call me names.
Drive, I say! Roule, donc.
- I don't know how to drive.
- Quoi?
No, I can't. I-I can't drive.
Go now, or I give it to you.
Okay. Okay.
Uh- Um-
Don't grind the gear.
Attention, hostie. Okay, I'm
trying. I'm trying the best I can.
Wow.
Morning, Cicely. Chris in the Morning on
K-Bear, the only sign of life on the A. M. dial.
Beautiful show last night
from the ionosphere.
S. R. O. performance by
the lovely Miss Aurora Borealis.
Hey, sun must be kickin' up
a heavy magnetic storm somewhere.
It's really wreakin' havoc
with my " reception-ay. "
Well, not much you can do.
Just kick back,
have a hot coffee, and party
to the songs o' the universe.
Hey, Maurice. Hello,
guys. Well, you're in luck.
Those Les Miz tickets you
ordered came in. Oh, that's great.
What do I owe you?
Seventy-five.
Hey, listen, we'll give you a ride down to
Anchorage with us. Oh, no, thanks. I'll pass.
Why? We got plenty of room in the
Cherokee. No, you don't understand.
We're talkin' about
Anchorage, not Cicely.
I've got, uh, political allies
there, business associates.
If I'm seen carpoolin' with you guys,
it might be inferred that
I validate your lifestyle choice.
Well, whatever. All right.
Well, thanks for the tickets.
Yeah, you're welcome.
So?
Holling, if we're gonna attempt psychotherapy,
you gotta at least say something.
Maybe if you could just...
get the ball rolling.
You know, I told you, it's not-
This is not my field, you know?
I mean, electrolytes and
eosinophil counts I'm great with,
but this is psychiatry, you know.
I mean, it's so soft a science,
you know.
Yeah, I wish you would reconsider
the therapist in Cantwell.
Joel, I just don't feel right
telling my secrets to a stranger.
Particularly at $85 an hour.
Besides, with Shelly pregnant, I can't
be flying back and forth to Cantwell.
Joel, you've got to help me.
I can't run an eating establishment
if I can't stand the sight and smell of food.
Okay. All right.
We're gonna try Rogerian therapy.
That sounds good.
Okay.
Um.
The problem with food began,
what, a week ago?
I'd just finished putting together
a changing table for the baby,
and I went in to pour myself
a glass of milk before bed.
As soon as I opened the carton,
the smell caused my throat to seize up.
So the smell of milk made you feel sick.
That's right.
A- And next morning, the sight of
eggs on a griddle did the same thing.
Now, any kind of food
almost sets me off.
I don't know what I'm gonna do. Well,
so you're in a quandary over what to do.
Yes.
I can't eat anything.
Tell you the truth, I'm scared.
And that makes you frightened.
Joel, is it me, or are you
repeating everything I say?
And I'm sure we'll find
something here you like.
I'm already late for my lunch.
Of course.
Uh, how about this
open-back heel in taupe?
Well, all right, then.
No.
Makes my foot look big.
You know, I do have something
very special.
How about this?
You must be joking.
Won't you please try?
I'd kill myself.
Please, Marian.
My name is not Marian.
Okay, um-
since the last time, you, uh-
you displayed a certain armoring
toward associative therapy,
I thought, this time w-we might
try something a little more traditional,
you know, a Freudian approach.
I've heard of him.
Good.
Why don't you, uh,
lean hack, would you?
Okay. What would be
the significance of eating?
I- I beg your pardon?
What does it mean to eat?
I get hungry, I eat.
Well, yeah. Superficially, yes.
But on a subconscious level, you-
I'm not sure I follow you.
All right.
What's the first thing you do
when you eat?
You-You open your mouth, right?
Yeah.
Which is an orifice, yeah?
Mm-hmm.
You...
insert something
into that orifice, yes?
You...
chew it up.
Yeah. Mm-hmm.
You annihilate it.
All right, uh-There-There's
another way to look at this.
Uh, when you eat,
you put something
foreign into you, right?
This could be unsafe.
Could be unclean.
It would make you vulnerable.
You're getting awfully personal, Joel.
That's kind of the point, isn't it?
Just-Actually, give me
one minute, all right?
All right.
I sent for that book, The
Methodology of Clinical Psychology.
It didn't come in yet, did it?
Uh-uh.
Oh, man.
Having trouble?
Well, I-it's not trouble. I guess
it's a- It's a bit of a vapor lock.
Mm. Try dreams.
Well, that's a bit of a cliché,
don't you think?
Freud said they're the
"royal road to the unconscious. "
Yeah, I got a guy in here who can't
talk objectively about orifices.
Up till now, I've avoided dream analysis,
because it wasn't consistent with my approach.
Mm-hmm.
But...
dreams are one way that the
subconscious communicates with us, okay?
As such, it can tell us certain things about a
- a patient's inner struggle.
For instance, Freud was able to tell
from Fraulein Y's comb dreams...
that she wanted to bear
her butcher's children.
So
- Joel, I haven't had any dreams lately.
What? Not since the aurora went haywire.
That's impossible, Holling.
Everyone dreams.
Sorry, Joel.
The theater's dark.
I want to get my hands back
on her feet, so I pull out these-
These six-inch, black spiked heels-
Wait a minute, the pot's not
right. Who didn't ante here?
It's me. Sorry. I'm desperate to get these
ridiculous-looking things on her feet,
and she doesn't want to have
anything to do with it, so she leaves.
And then, I start rubbin' the shoe.
Oh, how about that? Ron's got
a thing for women's shoes.
Anything else you haven't told me?
Come on, Erick, what're you gonna do?
Fifty cents. It's just such
a trite, hackneyed fetish.
I'd like to think I'd be a
little bit more original. Chris?
I'm out.
It's funny, you know, I've been
having this weird dream, too.
I was in, uh, that children's game,
Candyland, you remember that?
And I'm gorging on
a giant peppermint tree-
literally- I can't get
enough of this thing.
Weird.
I don't think it's weird.
I think these dreams
just aren't your own.
What?
All right, check this out.
Walt told me, back in '57, right- last
time the Northern Lights went ballistic-
He's dreamin' he's walkin' into
this executive board room, right?
He's got a shirt on,
a tie, and no pants.
Anyway, this C. E. O. who had come
up here- he hired Walt as a guide-
that was his recurring nightmare.
So Walt gets freaked out,
he starts askin' around town-
Turns out Minnie Blake is dreamin'
about Walt's weasel traps.
- Are we havin' a poker game or a gabfest here?
What're you gonna do? - Ho-Ho-Ho-Hold on a second.
Y- You're sayin' that Walt
was having this C. E. O.'s dream,
- a-and Minnie was havin' his?
- That's right.
- Oh, get out.
- Hey, what do you think drives all this gray matter up here, man?
Electricity. It's, you know, brain waves
surfing on synaptic junctions.
- Stevens- - If your radio
can go out because of sunspots,
why can't your cerebellum, man?
It's just-you know, it's all a matter of
reception, and it seems to me...
like these signals are gonna get
crossed somehow- it's all logical.
It's an interesting notion. I just don't
think it's physiologically possible.
Come on, Erick,
what're you gonna do?
Where to?
Place Royale. Hurry.
Attention!
- You don't see that car?
- Yes! Yes, I see the car.
- There was plenty of room.
- Envoyez.! Faster. Go more fast.
Faster? I'm already goin'
over the speed limit.
What do you want to do,
get us killed?
You are a coward.
Tu me fais honte.
Ashamed of me?
- Why?
- Y'a bien des raisons.
- Who are you?
- Are you crazy? Chu ton père.
My father?
- You're not my father.
- Eh.! Regarde.!
Nora and I were going to go down
to Havana for the holidays,
but now I hear that crackpot Castro's
nationalized the Tropicana.
Oh, you don't want
to go to Cuba, Bruce.
Everyone's running around
with pistols and uniforms,
and you can't even get
a decent paella.
Excuse me, darling.
Hey.
What?
You're not going to believe this.
Two poached, side of potatoes.
I'll be back in a minute
to sweeten your coffee.
Still feel like you're gonna
ralph, babe? I'll manage, Shell.
I know how you feel.
First three months,
I was drivin' the porcelain bus
every morning.
You know what helped?
Saltines and milk.
Oh, Shelly, please,
don't even mention milk.
Sorry, hon. Listen,
speaking of the pooper,
we gotta decide what stroller
we're gonna order.
Personally, I'm leaning
toward the Combi Legend.
Big wheels.
Shell, I promised the man some coffee.
Uh, we'll talk about this, later.
He was so mean.
We're sittin' in this car, and
he keeps calling me names.
No, he keeps telling me to drive.
"Roule, roule, vas-y, " right?
And in this dream, I was a cabbie.
Yeah. Yeah,
but I was afraid to drive.
So he started calling me names
like idiot, and coward, and niaiseuse.
And who is this man?
I don't know.
Never seen him before, but he
kept saying he was my father.
- Maggie-
- Oh, I'm okay, Holling, thanks.
This man in your dream,
what did he look like?
Blondish hair, right,
with, uh, kind of these
nasty, squinty eyes.
He didn't have a mole on
his cheek, did he? Right here?
Yeah, I think he did.
How'd you know?
Mon père.
What?
That man was my father.
Maggie, you had my dream.
Oh, wow.
You know, some of the natives
up in North Dakota believe that...
the aurora borealis is the fire of warriors
cookin' up their enemies in big old pots.
And among the Inuit, they believe
that he's probably some bad-ass spirit...
who's most likely gonna swoop down and
pluck out your eyes, or cut off your head.
Among some of the other Alaskan
natives, they say he ain't so tough.
You whistle at the aurora, they say,
and he's gonna dance to your tune.
- It's absurd.
- Joel, you said you wanted to analyze my dreams.
Your dreams, not the fevered, nocturnal
ramblings of Ms. O'Connell here.
He says they're his dreams. I had the
exact same ones when I was a youngster.
Did Chris put you up to this?
Is this his idea?
Look, Fleischman, why
do you have to be so rigid?
Listen to what
you people are suggesting.
There is absolutely no way that
you are having his dreams. I'm sorry.
Chris's picturesque metaphor aside,
the subconscious is not a radio station.
Brain waves are not bouncing around the
ionosphere looking for a receiver, okay?
Trust me. The noggin
is a self-contained unit.
Couldn't they leak out?
Look, Holling.
Let me tell you something. It's bad enough that
you bully me into becoming your psychotherapist.
Now you're making a mockery out of what
little science there is in this field.
This little stunt of yours is very telling.
It-It's actually cheering.
Y
- You know the term " avoidance"? Clearly, I have gotten close to something,
and it's making you uncomfortable,
'cause I don't think you want...
to face this problem, and
you're deflecting the focus...
to this absolutely
preposterous fantasy.
Well, you just know everything,
don't you?
No. But I know, by encouraging him,
you're sabotaging his therapy.
- Joel-
- Look, I'm sorry, that's it, okay?
I- I can't treat you under these
conditions, all right? Go home.
Think about what I've said, and when you're
ready to come back with some dreams of your own,
I will be more than happy
to see you, all right?
Boys. Maurice. Maurice.
Shelly, give me a Reuben,
please. Hold the slaw. Comin' up.
What are you hens staring at?
Nothing.
Nothing.
You know, uh, Ron, what this town
really needs is a good shoe store. Yeah.
Women's shoes, in particular. Something a
little fancier than hiking shoes and galoshes.
Oh, exactly.
Espadrilles.
Pumps.
Spiked-heel shoes.
Hey, Maurice, you didn't happen to leave
anything at our house the other night?
- No.
- No, really, 'cause Ron found this, uh, dream.
- He thought that might belong to you.
- If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not privy to it.
Really?
You sure?
Hey, you know what they say,
Maurice: If the shoe fits-
Hold on there, you two!
Apparently, you think
you've got something on me.
Sorry, Maurice,
we couldn't resist.
Don't worry, Maurice,
we won't tell anybody.
Tell anybody what? Maurice,
everybody has their little fantasies.
It's no big deal.
Look, whatever porno dreams you two
are havin', it has nothing to do with me.
Whatever you say.
Take it easy, Maurice.
Now, you listen here.
I am not the pervert in this town,
you are the perverts in this town.
I'm closed.
It's 12:00. I'm clo-Joel.
What are you doing
up at this hour?
Where are your shoes?
You'll catch your death.
Ms. Miller, can I have some,
uh, Sweet Tarts, please? What?
I'd like to buy some Sweet Tarts.
Joel, what is the matter with you?
Joel?
Whoa.
- What's goin' on?
- Well, I think you were walking in your sleep.
Ruth- Ruth-Anne, I-I-I-
- I-I-I don't sleepwalk.
- You're lucky you didn't freeze to death.
Here.
Is there any frostbite?
My Matthew used to sleepwalk
when he was a little boy.
He got out of the house once, and I found him
four blocks away, sitting in a neighbor's swing.
Ruth-Anne, I don't- I don't-
I don't-This is weird.
- This is really weird.
- Do you still want those Sweet Tarts?
- What?
- You said you wanted to buy Sweet Tarts.
Oh, man! Come on. I'll drive you home.
Holling?
Yes, Shelly?
What's the matter,
can't you fall asleep?
Oh, I got to sleep, all right.
Stomach woke me up. Yeah?
Yeah, I'm afraid those chili peppers
didn't agree with me.
Oh. But I bet you had
some pretty gnarly dreams.
Well, yes.
But I don't think they were mine.
No? I was dreaming about
kayaking on Lake Saint Pete,
and instead of an oar,
all I had was this little spatula.
Dave!
You go on back to sleep, Shell.
Well, what about you?
Dream about Dave's first wife?
No, thank you.
Another book came.
Jung: The Undiscovered Self.
Oy.
I'll tell you, when I started this psychotherapy
thing, I never thought I'd be practicing it on myself.
But these dreams- I mean, again.
I mean, last night,
I- I'm obsessed with candy.
I have these-these visions- just- they
swirl in my head, of Milk Duds and Jujubes.
It's ridiculous. All right, well,
here's a chapter on symbols.
Dwarves, snakes, teeth, parakeets.
What about candy?
What does candy mean?
Maybe candy's just candy.
- Huh?
- In the winter, I dream of crowberries.
Yeah?
I like crowberries.
But they're out of season.
I- I'm not sure I follow.
I want them, but I can't have them.
S- So... you feel deprived?
- Uh-huh. - What, you're saying
that I feel deprived over candy?
No, Marilyn, look, I can have candy
whenever I want.
I mean, besides,
I don't even like sweets.
That's the weird thing here. I am much
more of like, you know, a salt guy.
Cashews, and pickles-
stuff like that.
Hmm.
What?
- Timmy Newstrom.
- Yeah, Helen's kid. What about him?
You said he couldn't eat candy.
Well, yeah, I mean, he had boils.
I needed to get his blood sugar down.
- So?
- He feels deprived.
Oh, I get it. I get it.
You been talkin' to Chris, and you're tryin' to tell me
that I've been having Timmy Newstrom's dreams, is that it?
That's very funny, Marilyn.
I mean, not that I can't follow
your line of reasoning-
that midnight trek to
Ruth-Anne's for Sweet Tarts and-
I mean, the peppermint trees.
But then to jump to the conclusion that I
am having the dreams of a nine-year-old boy-
He's eight.
Chris in the Morning,
with the dream-finders update.
Hey, Tanya McAllister's troubled dream of being
pursued naked down Main Street by a flock of ravens...
has been claimed by
Dee Dee George, who says...
she has the exact same dream
every year, on her wedding anniversary.
Congratulations, Tanya.
I'm standing outside the K-Bear
studios with Walt Kupfer, who's-
He's got a puzzling dream, and I'm
just gonna turn the mic over to Walt,
and let him tell you all
about it-Walt? Thanks, Chris.
In my dream, I'm walking up
these tower stairs.
It seems to be a minaret.
I keep going up and up,
and around and around.
I wake up exhausted,
with a feeling of despair.
Yeah, I can dig that, Walt.
I can't get back to sleep.
The feeling hangs with me all day.
I'd like to ask whoever this dream
belongs to, do I ever reach the top?
Well the K-Bear lines are open,
if anybody can help out.
Walt, good luck to you, buddy.
Thanks, Chris.
That's a minaret. Uh, possibly a
winding, never-ending staircase-
a tower, a sense of futility-
Hey.
Can I give you hand there?
I'll take that as a yes.
Hold on.
Reminds me of the joke where the guy goes
to the psychiatrist and says he's a mechanic.
Psychiatrist says,
"Get under the couch. "
How about the one where the guy
goes to the psychiatrist and says,
"Nobody's payin' any attention to me,"
and the psychiatrist says, " Next!"
All right, look.
I would like you and Holling
to come back.
Fleischman, have you
changed your mind?
Look, you know, what can I say?
There's all kinds of bizarre...
and unexplained phenomenon
in the natural world.
I mean, sub-atomically, light seems
to consist of both particles and waves,
and that's impossible,
but that's the case, so-
Aerodynamically, the bumblebee
should not be able to fly,
and yet, miraculously, it does.
- So-
- Maybe I am having Holling's dreams.
Maybe you are. The important thing
is that he believes you are,
and if interpreting them
gives him some insight, then-
You know, who am I?
What do ya say?
Did you hear about the psychiatrist
who's walking down the hallway?
Ran into another psychiatrist.
Second psychiatrist said, " Hello. "
First psychiatrist thought,
"Wonder what he meant by that?"
The business has just been terrible.
Usually we're full this time with theJapanese,
'cause they come up for the aurora.
But the recession hit 'em really hard, the Nikkei's
way down, and we're at like, uh, 60 percent occupancy.
- To you, Ron.
- Uh, check.
If it hadn't been for that church group from Santa
Fe, January would have been a complete disaster.
Check.
Uh, check.
- Fifty cents.
- Nope.
I'll see you 50 cents, Maurice,
and I'll raise you 50 cents.
Wait a minute, you can't do that.
You can't check and then raise.
- Why not?
- Well, it's table rules.
No. Nobody said anything
about checking and raising.
It's always been table rules.
- Joel? Chris?
- Nobody said anything about checking and raising, Maurice.
All right. Let's let Spin and Marty
have their way, then.
Fifty, boys.
That's too rich for me.
- Three nines.
- Oh, man-
You're having quite a run
of luck tonight, aren't you?
Not bad.
Of course, uh, you and Erick
usually do well.
- What do you mean? - I mean that, when we play
high-low split, you two always split the pot.
Are you implying
something, Maurice?
Oh, I'm just, uh, implying that...
all those years of cohabitation
have given you plenty of chance to, uh,
put together a nifty set of signals.
Look, guys, come on.
Little, uh, seven card stud,
deuces wild, all right? Yeah.
- You're saying we cheat?
- Bull's-eye.
Erick-You don't
mean that, Maurice.
- The hell I don't.
- Maurice, we have been baited by pros.
We are not rising to this.
Gentlemen.
In the dream, the dog,
which is sometimes a mixer,
turns into this
very demanding French Canadian.
And you believe this-
this man is your father?
No doubt about it.
Even though he gave me life, Jean-Jacques
Vincoeur was a bitter, vicious man.
I- I see.
And when, uh, the-
dog-slash-mixer, uh, tells you to drive,
how did that make you feel?
I'm terrified, right?
Right.
My feet hardly reach to the pedals. I
can barely see over the steering wheel.
Are you unusually short,
like a-a dwarf?
No.
I'm ten years old.
Oh, so you're
ten years old in this dream?
Not in the dream, in real life.
I'm sorry. My father made
me drive when I was a child.
He said that using the clutch
was hard on his trick knee.
He forced me to be his chauffeur.
Oh, get it?
Chauffeur, cab driver-
H- Hold on.
You're saying that
this really happened?
I'll never forget the first time
he put me behind the wheel.
I had no idea what to do.
He just yelled at me,
called me all kinds of names.
In the dream, he said
he was ashamed of me.
God! You know, you
must have felt so unloved.
Please, really. Y-You can't
lead him here, okay?
And I mean, this is-
it's very interesting.
I just- I don't see how it's
relevant to your eating aversion,
and I think what we should be doing is
focusing on a more immediate emotional trigger.
I don't know much about psychology, b
- but I think that this parent stuff is very important.
Please, really. Y-You can only be here
to report the dreams, okay?
I- I'm about to be a father- He is about to
be a father- and I think there's a connection.
O'Connell.
I have been thinking about this.
What if I turn out to be the same
terrible father mine was to me? See?
Oh. That's the hour.
Afternoon, Maurice.
No takers for the fennel bread.
Thought maybe the crows might like it.
You're awfully quiet.
The world's going to hell
in a hand cart, Ruth-Anne.
Oh? How's that?
Deviants are taking over.
Deviants?
Yeah.
Fairies, for example.
It wasn't long ago, if you were
light in the loafers,
you were properly ashamed of it.
You didn't advertise, you lied to your draft
board, you stayed in the closet where you belonged.
I suppose.
Now look at 'em.
They're adopting kids,
they have spousal health benefits,
Ron and Erick trip along Main Street
arm in arm, like Fred and Ginger.
Even the birds
won't touch this stuff.
You know what the most
insidious part of it is, Ruth-Anne?
We accept it.
Hell, even I was
beginning to accept it.
Well, why wouldn't you?
Because there has to be some
standards, Ruth-Anne: some boundaries.
If you're talking about sex between grown men
and women, I couldn't disagree with you more.
Yeah?
This is sex, Maurice.
Sex.
So?
It's not table manners
or parliamentary procedure.
Sex is not civilization,
it's-it's the jungle.
It's a darkly mysterious,
irrepressible, primitive drive.
So we should just throw
all caution to the wind, huh?
Anything's acceptable?
I'm too old to worry about
what's acceptable and what's not.
As long as nobody gets hurt, let 'em be.
It's just human.
We all have the jungle inside us.
We all have wants,
and needs, and desires...
strange as they may seem.
If you stop to think about it,
we're all pretty creative.
We're cooking up all these fantasies.
It's like a kind of poetry.
Poetry?
In a sense, mm-hmm.
Let me ask you something,
Ruth-Anne- hypothetically.
Uh, say you've known a man
for many years,
he's a leader in his community.
Say you find out about this guy,
that he has, uh, fantasies about,
uh, oh, women's undergarments,
nurses' uniforms,
or even... shoes.
Are you tellin' me you wouldn't
feel... differently about him?
Good grief, no.
You know what Oscar Wilde said?
Oh, great, another fairy.
He said,
"Nothing human is alien to me. "
Yeah, well, we didn't say that in
Parris Island, let me tell you that.
Je veux mon souper.
The stew's almost ready, a-and
there's lemonade in the icebox.
Limonade?
I take a beer.
C'est quoi, ça?
What are you doing?
Chipped beef on toast.
I hate it.
Don't you touch it.
Mais c'est écoeurant, cette affaire, lá.!
It is not foul and disgusting!
It's intelligent and kind and honest!
T'es folle?
It's a horrible sandwich.
It is my son...
and if you lay a hand on him,
I'll leave you!
I swear, I'll take him and I'll leave you!
- W-What happened next?
- Um, the house turned into a boat.
You know, the kind you see in Paris that
go up and down the Seine- Bateaux-Mouches?
And, uh, let's see,
I was with a girlfriend,
and we ran into these two
really cute guys in Provence.
- I don't think that part's mine.
- Yeah, but up till then?
Well, the man is certainly my father,
but the situation seems new,
and the fact is,
I never had this dream before.
See, I'm wondering
why you're wearing a-a dress.
And I-And I-
And I had an apron on, too.
An apron?
Uh-huh.
With little flowers on it?
Tiny flowers.
All different colors.
Ma mère.
- What?
- That's my mother's apron.
You're not me in this dream,
you're my mother.
See, I think we're getting somewhere,
'cause I think that you're also the sandwich.
Yes!
Remember?
I said, " That's my son"?
Well, I can tell you one thing:
most of the time as a boy,
I felt as low and worthless
as chipped beef on toast.
Well, your mother
didn't think that, Holling.
She thought you were
intelligent and kind.
What do you think it all means?
There's a-a theory that...
you're all the characters in your-
in your dreams.
I mean, they'rejust-
it's really yourself.
I'm my father? I'm my mother?
I'm chipped beef on toast?
Well, I mean, it's a theory.
Two hundred and fifty dollars
to Plow & Hearth?
It's the, uh, new andirons
for the Honeymoon Suite.
Right.
I got it.
Good evening.
May I come in?
I know you people
are partial to single malt.
This is one of my favorite Islays.
Lagavulin, 16 years old.
It's got a rich, smoky taste.
I thought you might enjoy it.
Thanks.
The other night,
I behaved dishonorably.
I accused you people of cheating,
when I knew it wasn't true.
I have no excuse for my behavior.
I just had something else on my mind.
- Yeah.
- Well, guess that's all.
Maurice.
Why don't you stick around,
have a drink with us?
No, thanks. Maybe another time. Okay.
Some other time.
Gentlemen.
Sorry, babe. I know you can't stand
this stuff, but I'm just so famished.
For lunch, I had
three of Dave's burritos.
Extra beans, extra cheese.
Still didn't hold me till dinner.
4:00, whammo- munchie attack.
Kielbasa and sauerkraut, mashed
potatoes, and a chocolate shake.
I know. I'm blimping out,
but I just can help myself.
Whoa, Pooper's doin'
handsprings tonight.
Shelly.
Hmm?
Milk.
That's what started it all. Milk.
Your food thingy?
Of course, milk.
Where does milk come from?
- Cows.
- Mothers.
Mothers make milk. Milk is
the very essence of motherhood.
Tell you, Shelly, if that
- if that Freud fella's right, that's what this is all about.
I've got to find Joel.
I've got to tell him.
About milk?
I'll be right back.
Get out those catalogs. We're gonna
decide on that stroller tonight.
Hmm.
Joel?
Yeah.
I think I know what's goin' on.
You do?
Yeah. Those sessions of yours,
they led me to her!
They led me to my mother!
Yeah?
Yeah, my revulsion to milk-
that's the key, don't you think?
Uh, I-I don't know, I mean-
Pushing away milk, pushing away food-
I was pushing her away.
Oh, so you're saying that
you were rejecting your mother?
Yes.
I- I rejected her.
I thought she was weak, because-
because my- my father
bullied and belittled her so.
All this time,
I've been so fearful
of becoming my father.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
No. I can be my mother.
I can be kind, and giving.
I can be good to my child.
Son of a gun.
Hey, Holling, look.
You did it, Joel.
Well-
You cured me.
Well-
Watch.
See?
Thank you, Dr. Fleischman.
"In that state ofhallucinated lucidity, not
only did they see the images of their own dreams,
but some saw
the images dreamed by others. "
That's from Gabriel Garcìa Màrquez,
A Hundred Years of Solitude,
and it seems there's precedence
for this dream-swapping.
I mean, is it really so out there?
Maybe we just dream
each other's dreams all the time.
Isn't that netherworld of
the unconscious truly collective?
I mean, aren't your fears my fears?
Aren't your wants my wants? Don't
- Don't we all drink from the same human cup?
Here's what CarlJung
had to say about it.
"All consciousness separates,
but in dreams...
"we put on the likeness
of that more universal, truer,
"more eternal man dwelling
in the darkness of primordial night.
"There, he is still the whole,
and the whole is in him,
"indistinguishable from nature,
and bare of all egohood.
"Out of these all-uniting depths
the dream arises,
be it never so childish,
grotesque, and immoral. "
Hey, Fleischman.
Whaddya say?
What's the matter?
Holling says I cured him.
Great. I didn't cure
him. I didn't do anything.
You saw.
I was terrible in there.
Well, I wouldn't say
you were terrible.
There were a few rough spots, but I
think all in all, you were pretty good.
Right.
Look, you were feelin'
your way through.
Psychiatry's not your forte, huh?
Besides, you said it was
subjective, or something.
Yeah. I may have said that,
but it's just-
It's not the reason.
You know, my palms literally sweat.
I- I don't want to know
those things about people.
I just don't.
What things?
Personal things, you know?
Private things.
I don't want to know that Holling's
father abused him, and that, as a result,
he's wracked with fear,
and rage and insecurity.
It's-
Man, it's just too painful.
Yeah, I know.
I mean-
I feel like I can handle
a lot of things.
I can handle parasitic infections,
and suppurating lesions,
arterial sclerosis-
but this stuff is-
I just want to go through life
thinkin' people are happy, you know?
Naive as that may sound.
Well, Fleischman, if you stay out here
much longer, your lettuce is gonna freeze.
Want to come to my house
and have a cup of tea?
Yeah.
Okay.
- T'es sourde, ou quoi?
- You speak French.
- Sort of.
- Qu'est-ce-que t'attends? Let's go.
- Oh, you're Canadian.
- Roule donc, idiote. Go.
Why are you calling me names?
There's no reason to call me names.
Drive, I say! Roule, donc.
- I don't know how to drive.
- Quoi?
No, I can't. I-I can't drive.
Go now, or I give it to you.
Okay. Okay.
Uh- Um-
Don't grind the gear.
Attention, hostie. Okay, I'm
trying. I'm trying the best I can.
Wow.
Morning, Cicely. Chris in the Morning on
K-Bear, the only sign of life on the A. M. dial.
Beautiful show last night
from the ionosphere.
S. R. O. performance by
the lovely Miss Aurora Borealis.
Hey, sun must be kickin' up
a heavy magnetic storm somewhere.
It's really wreakin' havoc
with my " reception-ay. "
Well, not much you can do.
Just kick back,
have a hot coffee, and party
to the songs o' the universe.
Hey, Maurice. Hello,
guys. Well, you're in luck.
Those Les Miz tickets you
ordered came in. Oh, that's great.
What do I owe you?
Seventy-five.
Hey, listen, we'll give you a ride down to
Anchorage with us. Oh, no, thanks. I'll pass.
Why? We got plenty of room in the
Cherokee. No, you don't understand.
We're talkin' about
Anchorage, not Cicely.
I've got, uh, political allies
there, business associates.
If I'm seen carpoolin' with you guys,
it might be inferred that
I validate your lifestyle choice.
Well, whatever. All right.
Well, thanks for the tickets.
Yeah, you're welcome.
So?
Holling, if we're gonna attempt psychotherapy,
you gotta at least say something.
Maybe if you could just...
get the ball rolling.
You know, I told you, it's not-
This is not my field, you know?
I mean, electrolytes and
eosinophil counts I'm great with,
but this is psychiatry, you know.
I mean, it's so soft a science,
you know.
Yeah, I wish you would reconsider
the therapist in Cantwell.
Joel, I just don't feel right
telling my secrets to a stranger.
Particularly at $85 an hour.
Besides, with Shelly pregnant, I can't
be flying back and forth to Cantwell.
Joel, you've got to help me.
I can't run an eating establishment
if I can't stand the sight and smell of food.
Okay. All right.
We're gonna try Rogerian therapy.
That sounds good.
Okay.
Um.
The problem with food began,
what, a week ago?
I'd just finished putting together
a changing table for the baby,
and I went in to pour myself
a glass of milk before bed.
As soon as I opened the carton,
the smell caused my throat to seize up.
So the smell of milk made you feel sick.
That's right.
A- And next morning, the sight of
eggs on a griddle did the same thing.
Now, any kind of food
almost sets me off.
I don't know what I'm gonna do. Well,
so you're in a quandary over what to do.
Yes.
I can't eat anything.
Tell you the truth, I'm scared.
And that makes you frightened.
Joel, is it me, or are you
repeating everything I say?
And I'm sure we'll find
something here you like.
I'm already late for my lunch.
Of course.
Uh, how about this
open-back heel in taupe?
Well, all right, then.
No.
Makes my foot look big.
You know, I do have something
very special.
How about this?
You must be joking.
Won't you please try?
I'd kill myself.
Please, Marian.
My name is not Marian.
Okay, um-
since the last time, you, uh-
you displayed a certain armoring
toward associative therapy,
I thought, this time w-we might
try something a little more traditional,
you know, a Freudian approach.
I've heard of him.
Good.
Why don't you, uh,
lean hack, would you?
Okay. What would be
the significance of eating?
I- I beg your pardon?
What does it mean to eat?
I get hungry, I eat.
Well, yeah. Superficially, yes.
But on a subconscious level, you-
I'm not sure I follow you.
All right.
What's the first thing you do
when you eat?
You-You open your mouth, right?
Yeah.
Which is an orifice, yeah?
Mm-hmm.
You...
insert something
into that orifice, yes?
You...
chew it up.
Yeah. Mm-hmm.
You annihilate it.
All right, uh-There-There's
another way to look at this.
Uh, when you eat,
you put something
foreign into you, right?
This could be unsafe.
Could be unclean.
It would make you vulnerable.
You're getting awfully personal, Joel.
That's kind of the point, isn't it?
Just-Actually, give me
one minute, all right?
All right.
I sent for that book, The
Methodology of Clinical Psychology.
It didn't come in yet, did it?
Uh-uh.
Oh, man.
Having trouble?
Well, I-it's not trouble. I guess
it's a- It's a bit of a vapor lock.
Mm. Try dreams.
Well, that's a bit of a cliché,
don't you think?
Freud said they're the
"royal road to the unconscious. "
Yeah, I got a guy in here who can't
talk objectively about orifices.
Up till now, I've avoided dream analysis,
because it wasn't consistent with my approach.
Mm-hmm.
But...
dreams are one way that the
subconscious communicates with us, okay?
As such, it can tell us certain things about a
- a patient's inner struggle.
For instance, Freud was able to tell
from Fraulein Y's comb dreams...
that she wanted to bear
her butcher's children.
So
- Joel, I haven't had any dreams lately.
What? Not since the aurora went haywire.
That's impossible, Holling.
Everyone dreams.
Sorry, Joel.
The theater's dark.
I want to get my hands back
on her feet, so I pull out these-
These six-inch, black spiked heels-
Wait a minute, the pot's not
right. Who didn't ante here?
It's me. Sorry. I'm desperate to get these
ridiculous-looking things on her feet,
and she doesn't want to have
anything to do with it, so she leaves.
And then, I start rubbin' the shoe.
Oh, how about that? Ron's got
a thing for women's shoes.
Anything else you haven't told me?
Come on, Erick, what're you gonna do?
Fifty cents. It's just such
a trite, hackneyed fetish.
I'd like to think I'd be a
little bit more original. Chris?
I'm out.
It's funny, you know, I've been
having this weird dream, too.
I was in, uh, that children's game,
Candyland, you remember that?
And I'm gorging on
a giant peppermint tree-
literally- I can't get
enough of this thing.
Weird.
I don't think it's weird.
I think these dreams
just aren't your own.
What?
All right, check this out.
Walt told me, back in '57, right- last
time the Northern Lights went ballistic-
He's dreamin' he's walkin' into
this executive board room, right?
He's got a shirt on,
a tie, and no pants.
Anyway, this C. E. O. who had come
up here- he hired Walt as a guide-
that was his recurring nightmare.
So Walt gets freaked out,
he starts askin' around town-
Turns out Minnie Blake is dreamin'
about Walt's weasel traps.
- Are we havin' a poker game or a gabfest here?
What're you gonna do? - Ho-Ho-Ho-Hold on a second.
Y- You're sayin' that Walt
was having this C. E. O.'s dream,
- a-and Minnie was havin' his?
- That's right.
- Oh, get out.
- Hey, what do you think drives all this gray matter up here, man?
Electricity. It's, you know, brain waves
surfing on synaptic junctions.
- Stevens- - If your radio
can go out because of sunspots,
why can't your cerebellum, man?
It's just-you know, it's all a matter of
reception, and it seems to me...
like these signals are gonna get
crossed somehow- it's all logical.
It's an interesting notion. I just don't
think it's physiologically possible.
Come on, Erick,
what're you gonna do?
Where to?
Place Royale. Hurry.
Attention!
- You don't see that car?
- Yes! Yes, I see the car.
- There was plenty of room.
- Envoyez.! Faster. Go more fast.
Faster? I'm already goin'
over the speed limit.
What do you want to do,
get us killed?
You are a coward.
Tu me fais honte.
Ashamed of me?
- Why?
- Y'a bien des raisons.
- Who are you?
- Are you crazy? Chu ton père.
My father?
- You're not my father.
- Eh.! Regarde.!
Nora and I were going to go down
to Havana for the holidays,
but now I hear that crackpot Castro's
nationalized the Tropicana.
Oh, you don't want
to go to Cuba, Bruce.
Everyone's running around
with pistols and uniforms,
and you can't even get
a decent paella.
Excuse me, darling.
Hey.
What?
You're not going to believe this.
Two poached, side of potatoes.
I'll be back in a minute
to sweeten your coffee.
Still feel like you're gonna
ralph, babe? I'll manage, Shell.
I know how you feel.
First three months,
I was drivin' the porcelain bus
every morning.
You know what helped?
Saltines and milk.
Oh, Shelly, please,
don't even mention milk.
Sorry, hon. Listen,
speaking of the pooper,
we gotta decide what stroller
we're gonna order.
Personally, I'm leaning
toward the Combi Legend.
Big wheels.
Shell, I promised the man some coffee.
Uh, we'll talk about this, later.
He was so mean.
We're sittin' in this car, and
he keeps calling me names.
No, he keeps telling me to drive.
"Roule, roule, vas-y, " right?
And in this dream, I was a cabbie.
Yeah. Yeah,
but I was afraid to drive.
So he started calling me names
like idiot, and coward, and niaiseuse.
And who is this man?
I don't know.
Never seen him before, but he
kept saying he was my father.
- Maggie-
- Oh, I'm okay, Holling, thanks.
This man in your dream,
what did he look like?
Blondish hair, right,
with, uh, kind of these
nasty, squinty eyes.
He didn't have a mole on
his cheek, did he? Right here?
Yeah, I think he did.
How'd you know?
Mon père.
What?
That man was my father.
Maggie, you had my dream.
Oh, wow.
You know, some of the natives
up in North Dakota believe that...
the aurora borealis is the fire of warriors
cookin' up their enemies in big old pots.
And among the Inuit, they believe
that he's probably some bad-ass spirit...
who's most likely gonna swoop down and
pluck out your eyes, or cut off your head.
Among some of the other Alaskan
natives, they say he ain't so tough.
You whistle at the aurora, they say,
and he's gonna dance to your tune.
- It's absurd.
- Joel, you said you wanted to analyze my dreams.
Your dreams, not the fevered, nocturnal
ramblings of Ms. O'Connell here.
He says they're his dreams. I had the
exact same ones when I was a youngster.
Did Chris put you up to this?
Is this his idea?
Look, Fleischman, why
do you have to be so rigid?
Listen to what
you people are suggesting.
There is absolutely no way that
you are having his dreams. I'm sorry.
Chris's picturesque metaphor aside,
the subconscious is not a radio station.
Brain waves are not bouncing around the
ionosphere looking for a receiver, okay?
Trust me. The noggin
is a self-contained unit.
Couldn't they leak out?
Look, Holling.
Let me tell you something. It's bad enough that
you bully me into becoming your psychotherapist.
Now you're making a mockery out of what
little science there is in this field.
This little stunt of yours is very telling.
It-It's actually cheering.
Y
- You know the term " avoidance"? Clearly, I have gotten close to something,
and it's making you uncomfortable,
'cause I don't think you want...
to face this problem, and
you're deflecting the focus...
to this absolutely
preposterous fantasy.
Well, you just know everything,
don't you?
No. But I know, by encouraging him,
you're sabotaging his therapy.
- Joel-
- Look, I'm sorry, that's it, okay?
I- I can't treat you under these
conditions, all right? Go home.
Think about what I've said, and when you're
ready to come back with some dreams of your own,
I will be more than happy
to see you, all right?
Boys. Maurice. Maurice.
Shelly, give me a Reuben,
please. Hold the slaw. Comin' up.
What are you hens staring at?
Nothing.
Nothing.
You know, uh, Ron, what this town
really needs is a good shoe store. Yeah.
Women's shoes, in particular. Something a
little fancier than hiking shoes and galoshes.
Oh, exactly.
Espadrilles.
Pumps.
Spiked-heel shoes.
Hey, Maurice, you didn't happen to leave
anything at our house the other night?
- No.
- No, really, 'cause Ron found this, uh, dream.
- He thought that might belong to you.
- If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not privy to it.
Really?
You sure?
Hey, you know what they say,
Maurice: If the shoe fits-
Hold on there, you two!
Apparently, you think
you've got something on me.
Sorry, Maurice,
we couldn't resist.
Don't worry, Maurice,
we won't tell anybody.
Tell anybody what? Maurice,
everybody has their little fantasies.
It's no big deal.
Look, whatever porno dreams you two
are havin', it has nothing to do with me.
Whatever you say.
Take it easy, Maurice.
Now, you listen here.
I am not the pervert in this town,
you are the perverts in this town.
I'm closed.
It's 12:00. I'm clo-Joel.
What are you doing
up at this hour?
Where are your shoes?
You'll catch your death.
Ms. Miller, can I have some,
uh, Sweet Tarts, please? What?
I'd like to buy some Sweet Tarts.
Joel, what is the matter with you?
Joel?
Whoa.
- What's goin' on?
- Well, I think you were walking in your sleep.
Ruth- Ruth-Anne, I-I-I-
- I-I-I don't sleepwalk.
- You're lucky you didn't freeze to death.
Here.
Is there any frostbite?
My Matthew used to sleepwalk
when he was a little boy.
He got out of the house once, and I found him
four blocks away, sitting in a neighbor's swing.
Ruth-Anne, I don't- I don't-
I don't-This is weird.
- This is really weird.
- Do you still want those Sweet Tarts?
- What?
- You said you wanted to buy Sweet Tarts.
Oh, man! Come on. I'll drive you home.
Holling?
Yes, Shelly?
What's the matter,
can't you fall asleep?
Oh, I got to sleep, all right.
Stomach woke me up. Yeah?
Yeah, I'm afraid those chili peppers
didn't agree with me.
Oh. But I bet you had
some pretty gnarly dreams.
Well, yes.
But I don't think they were mine.
No? I was dreaming about
kayaking on Lake Saint Pete,
and instead of an oar,
all I had was this little spatula.
Dave!
You go on back to sleep, Shell.
Well, what about you?
Dream about Dave's first wife?
No, thank you.
Another book came.
Jung: The Undiscovered Self.
Oy.
I'll tell you, when I started this psychotherapy
thing, I never thought I'd be practicing it on myself.
But these dreams- I mean, again.
I mean, last night,
I- I'm obsessed with candy.
I have these-these visions- just- they
swirl in my head, of Milk Duds and Jujubes.
It's ridiculous. All right, well,
here's a chapter on symbols.
Dwarves, snakes, teeth, parakeets.
What about candy?
What does candy mean?
Maybe candy's just candy.
- Huh?
- In the winter, I dream of crowberries.
Yeah?
I like crowberries.
But they're out of season.
I- I'm not sure I follow.
I want them, but I can't have them.
S- So... you feel deprived?
- Uh-huh. - What, you're saying
that I feel deprived over candy?
No, Marilyn, look, I can have candy
whenever I want.
I mean, besides,
I don't even like sweets.
That's the weird thing here. I am much
more of like, you know, a salt guy.
Cashews, and pickles-
stuff like that.
Hmm.
What?
- Timmy Newstrom.
- Yeah, Helen's kid. What about him?
You said he couldn't eat candy.
Well, yeah, I mean, he had boils.
I needed to get his blood sugar down.
- So?
- He feels deprived.
Oh, I get it. I get it.
You been talkin' to Chris, and you're tryin' to tell me
that I've been having Timmy Newstrom's dreams, is that it?
That's very funny, Marilyn.
I mean, not that I can't follow
your line of reasoning-
that midnight trek to
Ruth-Anne's for Sweet Tarts and-
I mean, the peppermint trees.
But then to jump to the conclusion that I
am having the dreams of a nine-year-old boy-
He's eight.
Chris in the Morning,
with the dream-finders update.
Hey, Tanya McAllister's troubled dream of being
pursued naked down Main Street by a flock of ravens...
has been claimed by
Dee Dee George, who says...
she has the exact same dream
every year, on her wedding anniversary.
Congratulations, Tanya.
I'm standing outside the K-Bear
studios with Walt Kupfer, who's-
He's got a puzzling dream, and I'm
just gonna turn the mic over to Walt,
and let him tell you all
about it-Walt? Thanks, Chris.
In my dream, I'm walking up
these tower stairs.
It seems to be a minaret.
I keep going up and up,
and around and around.
I wake up exhausted,
with a feeling of despair.
Yeah, I can dig that, Walt.
I can't get back to sleep.
The feeling hangs with me all day.
I'd like to ask whoever this dream
belongs to, do I ever reach the top?
Well the K-Bear lines are open,
if anybody can help out.
Walt, good luck to you, buddy.
Thanks, Chris.
That's a minaret. Uh, possibly a
winding, never-ending staircase-
a tower, a sense of futility-
Hey.
Can I give you hand there?
I'll take that as a yes.
Hold on.
Reminds me of the joke where the guy goes
to the psychiatrist and says he's a mechanic.
Psychiatrist says,
"Get under the couch. "
How about the one where the guy
goes to the psychiatrist and says,
"Nobody's payin' any attention to me,"
and the psychiatrist says, " Next!"
All right, look.
I would like you and Holling
to come back.
Fleischman, have you
changed your mind?
Look, you know, what can I say?
There's all kinds of bizarre...
and unexplained phenomenon
in the natural world.
I mean, sub-atomically, light seems
to consist of both particles and waves,
and that's impossible,
but that's the case, so-
Aerodynamically, the bumblebee
should not be able to fly,
and yet, miraculously, it does.
- So-
- Maybe I am having Holling's dreams.
Maybe you are. The important thing
is that he believes you are,
and if interpreting them
gives him some insight, then-
You know, who am I?
What do ya say?
Did you hear about the psychiatrist
who's walking down the hallway?
Ran into another psychiatrist.
Second psychiatrist said, " Hello. "
First psychiatrist thought,
"Wonder what he meant by that?"
The business has just been terrible.
Usually we're full this time with theJapanese,
'cause they come up for the aurora.
But the recession hit 'em really hard, the Nikkei's
way down, and we're at like, uh, 60 percent occupancy.
- To you, Ron.
- Uh, check.
If it hadn't been for that church group from Santa
Fe, January would have been a complete disaster.
Check.
Uh, check.
- Fifty cents.
- Nope.
I'll see you 50 cents, Maurice,
and I'll raise you 50 cents.
Wait a minute, you can't do that.
You can't check and then raise.
- Why not?
- Well, it's table rules.
No. Nobody said anything
about checking and raising.
It's always been table rules.
- Joel? Chris?
- Nobody said anything about checking and raising, Maurice.
All right. Let's let Spin and Marty
have their way, then.
Fifty, boys.
That's too rich for me.
- Three nines.
- Oh, man-
You're having quite a run
of luck tonight, aren't you?
Not bad.
Of course, uh, you and Erick
usually do well.
- What do you mean? - I mean that, when we play
high-low split, you two always split the pot.
Are you implying
something, Maurice?
Oh, I'm just, uh, implying that...
all those years of cohabitation
have given you plenty of chance to, uh,
put together a nifty set of signals.
Look, guys, come on.
Little, uh, seven card stud,
deuces wild, all right? Yeah.
- You're saying we cheat?
- Bull's-eye.
Erick-You don't
mean that, Maurice.
- The hell I don't.
- Maurice, we have been baited by pros.
We are not rising to this.
Gentlemen.
In the dream, the dog,
which is sometimes a mixer,
turns into this
very demanding French Canadian.
And you believe this-
this man is your father?
No doubt about it.
Even though he gave me life, Jean-Jacques
Vincoeur was a bitter, vicious man.
I- I see.
And when, uh, the-
dog-slash-mixer, uh, tells you to drive,
how did that make you feel?
I'm terrified, right?
Right.
My feet hardly reach to the pedals. I
can barely see over the steering wheel.
Are you unusually short,
like a-a dwarf?
No.
I'm ten years old.
Oh, so you're
ten years old in this dream?
Not in the dream, in real life.
I'm sorry. My father made
me drive when I was a child.
He said that using the clutch
was hard on his trick knee.
He forced me to be his chauffeur.
Oh, get it?
Chauffeur, cab driver-
H- Hold on.
You're saying that
this really happened?
I'll never forget the first time
he put me behind the wheel.
I had no idea what to do.
He just yelled at me,
called me all kinds of names.
In the dream, he said
he was ashamed of me.
God! You know, you
must have felt so unloved.
Please, really. Y-You can't
lead him here, okay?
And I mean, this is-
it's very interesting.
I just- I don't see how it's
relevant to your eating aversion,
and I think what we should be doing is
focusing on a more immediate emotional trigger.
I don't know much about psychology, b
- but I think that this parent stuff is very important.
Please, really. Y-You can only be here
to report the dreams, okay?
I- I'm about to be a father- He is about to
be a father- and I think there's a connection.
O'Connell.
I have been thinking about this.
What if I turn out to be the same
terrible father mine was to me? See?
Oh. That's the hour.
Afternoon, Maurice.
No takers for the fennel bread.
Thought maybe the crows might like it.
You're awfully quiet.
The world's going to hell
in a hand cart, Ruth-Anne.
Oh? How's that?
Deviants are taking over.
Deviants?
Yeah.
Fairies, for example.
It wasn't long ago, if you were
light in the loafers,
you were properly ashamed of it.
You didn't advertise, you lied to your draft
board, you stayed in the closet where you belonged.
I suppose.
Now look at 'em.
They're adopting kids,
they have spousal health benefits,
Ron and Erick trip along Main Street
arm in arm, like Fred and Ginger.
Even the birds
won't touch this stuff.
You know what the most
insidious part of it is, Ruth-Anne?
We accept it.
Hell, even I was
beginning to accept it.
Well, why wouldn't you?
Because there has to be some
standards, Ruth-Anne: some boundaries.
If you're talking about sex between grown men
and women, I couldn't disagree with you more.
Yeah?
This is sex, Maurice.
Sex.
So?
It's not table manners
or parliamentary procedure.
Sex is not civilization,
it's-it's the jungle.
It's a darkly mysterious,
irrepressible, primitive drive.
So we should just throw
all caution to the wind, huh?
Anything's acceptable?
I'm too old to worry about
what's acceptable and what's not.
As long as nobody gets hurt, let 'em be.
It's just human.
We all have the jungle inside us.
We all have wants,
and needs, and desires...
strange as they may seem.
If you stop to think about it,
we're all pretty creative.
We're cooking up all these fantasies.
It's like a kind of poetry.
Poetry?
In a sense, mm-hmm.
Let me ask you something,
Ruth-Anne- hypothetically.
Uh, say you've known a man
for many years,
he's a leader in his community.
Say you find out about this guy,
that he has, uh, fantasies about,
uh, oh, women's undergarments,
nurses' uniforms,
or even... shoes.
Are you tellin' me you wouldn't
feel... differently about him?
Good grief, no.
You know what Oscar Wilde said?
Oh, great, another fairy.
He said,
"Nothing human is alien to me. "
Yeah, well, we didn't say that in
Parris Island, let me tell you that.
Je veux mon souper.
The stew's almost ready, a-and
there's lemonade in the icebox.
Limonade?
I take a beer.
C'est quoi, ça?
What are you doing?
Chipped beef on toast.
I hate it.
Don't you touch it.
Mais c'est écoeurant, cette affaire, lá.!
It is not foul and disgusting!
It's intelligent and kind and honest!
T'es folle?
It's a horrible sandwich.
It is my son...
and if you lay a hand on him,
I'll leave you!
I swear, I'll take him and I'll leave you!
- W-What happened next?
- Um, the house turned into a boat.
You know, the kind you see in Paris that
go up and down the Seine- Bateaux-Mouches?
And, uh, let's see,
I was with a girlfriend,
and we ran into these two
really cute guys in Provence.
- I don't think that part's mine.
- Yeah, but up till then?
Well, the man is certainly my father,
but the situation seems new,
and the fact is,
I never had this dream before.
See, I'm wondering
why you're wearing a-a dress.
And I-And I-
And I had an apron on, too.
An apron?
Uh-huh.
With little flowers on it?
Tiny flowers.
All different colors.
Ma mère.
- What?
- That's my mother's apron.
You're not me in this dream,
you're my mother.
See, I think we're getting somewhere,
'cause I think that you're also the sandwich.
Yes!
Remember?
I said, " That's my son"?
Well, I can tell you one thing:
most of the time as a boy,
I felt as low and worthless
as chipped beef on toast.
Well, your mother
didn't think that, Holling.
She thought you were
intelligent and kind.
What do you think it all means?
There's a-a theory that...
you're all the characters in your-
in your dreams.
I mean, they'rejust-
it's really yourself.
I'm my father? I'm my mother?
I'm chipped beef on toast?
Well, I mean, it's a theory.
Two hundred and fifty dollars
to Plow & Hearth?
It's the, uh, new andirons
for the Honeymoon Suite.
Right.
I got it.
Good evening.
May I come in?
I know you people
are partial to single malt.
This is one of my favorite Islays.
Lagavulin, 16 years old.
It's got a rich, smoky taste.
I thought you might enjoy it.
Thanks.
The other night,
I behaved dishonorably.
I accused you people of cheating,
when I knew it wasn't true.
I have no excuse for my behavior.
I just had something else on my mind.
- Yeah.
- Well, guess that's all.
Maurice.
Why don't you stick around,
have a drink with us?
No, thanks. Maybe another time. Okay.
Some other time.
Gentlemen.
Sorry, babe. I know you can't stand
this stuff, but I'm just so famished.
For lunch, I had
three of Dave's burritos.
Extra beans, extra cheese.
Still didn't hold me till dinner.
4:00, whammo- munchie attack.
Kielbasa and sauerkraut, mashed
potatoes, and a chocolate shake.
I know. I'm blimping out,
but I just can help myself.
Whoa, Pooper's doin'
handsprings tonight.
Shelly.
Hmm?
Milk.
That's what started it all. Milk.
Your food thingy?
Of course, milk.
Where does milk come from?
- Cows.
- Mothers.
Mothers make milk. Milk is
the very essence of motherhood.
Tell you, Shelly, if that
- if that Freud fella's right, that's what this is all about.
I've got to find Joel.
I've got to tell him.
About milk?
I'll be right back.
Get out those catalogs. We're gonna
decide on that stroller tonight.
Hmm.
Joel?
Yeah.
I think I know what's goin' on.
You do?
Yeah. Those sessions of yours,
they led me to her!
They led me to my mother!
Yeah?
Yeah, my revulsion to milk-
that's the key, don't you think?
Uh, I-I don't know, I mean-
Pushing away milk, pushing away food-
I was pushing her away.
Oh, so you're saying that
you were rejecting your mother?
Yes.
I- I rejected her.
I thought she was weak, because-
because my- my father
bullied and belittled her so.
All this time,
I've been so fearful
of becoming my father.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
No. I can be my mother.
I can be kind, and giving.
I can be good to my child.
Son of a gun.
Hey, Holling, look.
You did it, Joel.
Well-
You cured me.
Well-
Watch.
See?
Thank you, Dr. Fleischman.
"In that state ofhallucinated lucidity, not
only did they see the images of their own dreams,
but some saw
the images dreamed by others. "
That's from Gabriel Garcìa Màrquez,
A Hundred Years of Solitude,
and it seems there's precedence
for this dream-swapping.
I mean, is it really so out there?
Maybe we just dream
each other's dreams all the time.
Isn't that netherworld of
the unconscious truly collective?
I mean, aren't your fears my fears?
Aren't your wants my wants? Don't
- Don't we all drink from the same human cup?
Here's what CarlJung
had to say about it.
"All consciousness separates,
but in dreams...
"we put on the likeness
of that more universal, truer,
"more eternal man dwelling
in the darkness of primordial night.
"There, he is still the whole,
and the whole is in him,
"indistinguishable from nature,
and bare of all egohood.
"Out of these all-uniting depths
the dream arises,
be it never so childish,
grotesque, and immoral. "
Hey, Fleischman.
Whaddya say?
What's the matter?
Holling says I cured him.
Great. I didn't cure
him. I didn't do anything.
You saw.
I was terrible in there.
Well, I wouldn't say
you were terrible.
There were a few rough spots, but I
think all in all, you were pretty good.
Right.
Look, you were feelin'
your way through.
Psychiatry's not your forte, huh?
Besides, you said it was
subjective, or something.
Yeah. I may have said that,
but it's just-
It's not the reason.
You know, my palms literally sweat.
I- I don't want to know
those things about people.
I just don't.
What things?
Personal things, you know?
Private things.
I don't want to know that Holling's
father abused him, and that, as a result,
he's wracked with fear,
and rage and insecurity.
It's-
Man, it's just too painful.
Yeah, I know.
I mean-
I feel like I can handle
a lot of things.
I can handle parasitic infections,
and suppurating lesions,
arterial sclerosis-
but this stuff is-
I just want to go through life
thinkin' people are happy, you know?
Naive as that may sound.
Well, Fleischman, if you stay out here
much longer, your lettuce is gonna freeze.
Want to come to my house
and have a cup of tea?
Yeah.
Okay.