Tyler slinks down into cushions. The scent of popcorn, candy-coated air, and badly-vacuumed carpet enter his nostrils. There are dim candle lights in his peripherals. He puts his feet up on the back of a seat.
The lights go down, the reel spins and clicks like a playing card in a bicycle wheel.
Tyler’s eyes grow wide as the screen rips open. The rip reveals a canyon he’d forgotten when he woke, erased by morning. There’s no more theater. He floats around in bits of coagulated memories, familiar faces, and bent realities.
This tangible dreamscape stolen from the night.