"Yo, man." "Pool guy, right?" "Good guess." "What?" "Well, it's just I was thinking of... throwing down my shovel here and changing professions." "So tell me, what does it take to be the pool guy?" "Why would you want to do that?" "Oh, man, look at you, bro." "You're out in the sun every day... moving around from house to house." " You're free." " Huh." "The ladies... they look you up and down and they see muscles..." "You guys are cleaning their pools... that's very sexual." "No wonder you get so much booty, eh?" "Oh, yeah." "Listen, I hate to..." "I hate to burst your bubble, pal... but I've been doing this crap about 20 years... and I never got any booty." "Get out of here, man." "You never got no booty?" "Not even once?" "Nope." "All I've ever gotten is a bad sunburn... and a whole lot of debt." "Well, you must be doing something wrong there, bro." "Name:" "Ritchie Almares." "Job description:" "Pool guy." "In just a moment, Ritchie's mundane daily routine... will become a never-ending nightmare," "One that will give new meaning to the word "victim."" "That nightmare begins now... in the Twilight Zone." "Wake up!" "No!" "No!" "Ritchie!" "Ritchie!" "Wake up!" "Wake up!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" "You've been screaming for five minutes." "You practically woke up the whole building." "I had a dream." "Uh..." "A nightmare." "This guy, he shot me... for no reason." "You want a nightmare, Ritchie?" "I won't be able to cover your part of the rent this month." "I told you, I'll have the money." "Look, I know things are tough, man... but that's what you said last month." "I got that new client, right?" "He's got a big house... pool, Jacuzzi..." "Uh, you know..." "Lenny, this didn't feel like any dream." "This was, uh..." "When that bullet hit me... the pain, it was... it was..." "It was intense." "You sure it was a dream, man?" "You're traveling to another dimension... a dimension not only of sight and sound... but of mind." "A journey into a wondrous land... whose boundaries are only that of the imagination." "You're entering..." "I can hardly believe it myself." "It's crazy." "Crazy." "Look, Ritchie... you've been coming to the clinic for five years." "If you can't tell me how you got this..." "That's the point, nothing happened." "Not really, I dreamt that someone shot me... and when I woke up..." "You had the scar." "Ritchie, remember when... you were here last year for your physical?" "You were depressed, you lost some weight." "Yeah, yeah, I remember." "We talked about you seeing a psychiatrist." "I even gave you some names." "See?" "I knew you wouldn't believe me." "Ritchie, are you telling me the truth?" "It wasn't there when I went to bed last night." "You know, I've read about instances where stress... can cause certain psychosomatic reactions." "You see?" "I don't need a shrink." "I got you to tell me I'm nuts." "This guy in your dream... the one who shot you, did you know him?" "I'm not sure." "His face was sort of familiar." "Why would anyone want to kill me?" "Ritchie, if it's OK with you..." "I'd like to bring in a colleague to discuss your condition." "I'll just be a minute." "He's right down the hall." "Ritchie?" "I want to introduce an associate of mine... someone who can help you... who knows exactly what you're going through." "That's him!" "Wake up." "Ritchie!" "Ritchie!" "Wait!" "Whoa!" "Whoa!" "Whoa!" "It's OK." "It's OK." "It was just a dream, man." "OK?" "I wish." "It was one of those dreams-within-a-dream." "First, I was cleaning this pool... and this guy just shows up and he shoots me, man... just bang... right in my chest." "Man, your head is holding some freaky stuff." "No, wait." "There's more, man." "So then I..." "I go to see Dr. Rosoff, right?" "And the same guy shows up." "And let me guess..." "he shoots you again." "Yeah, yeah, but in the belly this time." "And then you woke up?" "Has anything like this ever happened to you?" "No." "I never remember my dreams." "You're lucky." "Look, man, this probably isn't the best time, but... the rent's coming due, and, Ritchie, there's no..." "Look, I told you already, you're going to get my half, OK?" "I got this new client, and, uh..." "Damn!" "Something took a bite out of you." "Lenny." "Lenny, you got to help me, man... 'cause... 'cause something weird is going on here." "No, I got to go to work, man, and so do you." "And make sure you wear a shirt, that mother is nasty." "My husband shot it." "He insists on being the top rat around here." "If you say so." "Tell me, um..." " Ritchie." " Um, whatever." "Are you married?" "No." "Then you have no idea... how thin the line is between love and hate." "Aren't you a little old to be a pool guy?" "Mrs. Hunt, I got a lot of work to do." "Oh, I'm sorry." "I insulted you." "So sorry." "It's not me." "It's the vodka." "Well, then maybe, Mrs. Hunt... you ought to lie down or something." "Hey, pool guy," "You propositioning me?" "That's not what I meant." "Hmm, just my luck." "A pool guy who plays hard to get." "That's my wife, scumbag!" "It's... it's you!" "Yes, it's me!" "This is my house!" "You're... you're not going to shoot me, are you?" "Shoot you?" "Just leave him alone, Jerry... we were just fooling around." "Well, that's all I'm doing, huh?" "Just fooling around." "Please!" "Please, don't!" "Look at you." "Your parents must be real proud raising a glorified janitor." "My loving wife is trying to get my attention... by screwing the lowest life form... she can get her hot little hands on." "Thank God we don't have a dog." "Where the hell am I?" "Hello?" "Anybody there?" "Hey!" "Will somebody tell me what's going on here?" "I'm sorry, Mr. Almares... but we're experiencing some technical difficulties." "If you'll please return to the diagnostic table..." "Where am I?" "What is this place?" "Please, Mr. Almares... you are in no condition to be moving around." "Tell me what's going on here." "What are you doing to me here?" "Answer me!" "All right." "You won't come out..." "I'm coming in." "You hear me?" "Please put the extinguisher down, Mr. Almares." "Not until I get some answers." "There's no reason to be upset, Mr. Almares." "You're at Virtuacorp... part of a new dream therapy experiment... to address your nightmares." "Dream therapy?" "!" "Whose idea was this?" "Mr. Almares, I'm warning you, I've already called security..." "Who's in charge?" "!" "I want to talk to somebody who's in charge!" "Wake up." "No!" "Ohh!" "It's over." "Hey, it's about time you woke up." "Yeah." "Man, you look like hell." "Bad dream?" "You have no idea." "This was in with my bills." "It's yours." "How about some beers at O'Malley's tonight?" "Yeah, yeah, sure." " Yeah?" " Sure." "Cool." "I got to run." "I'll see you tonight." ""Virtuacorp"?" "You know, look, I know that you just work here..." "But this is ridiculous." "Two hours." "Two hours!" "That's how long I've been sitting here!" "That's why we recommend... our clients call ahead for an appointment." "I'm not a client!" "According to our records..." "I don't give a damn about your records!" "I didn't authorize any dream therapy sessions!" "Yes, you did, when you signed your contract." "What contract?" "What contract?" "Show it to me!" "Mr. Almares, calm down." "I'll go find somebody to answer your questions." "Thank you." "We are live in Oakwood... where studio executive Jerry Hunt... was shot in his home last night." "According to Mrs. Hunt... her husband got into a heated argument... with their pool cleaner earlier that day." "Investigators believe... that the man later broke into the home... and shot Mr. Hunt while he was watching TV." "A suspect has been arrested." "The man's name is being withheld." "Oh, God!" "No." "This..." "this can't be real!" "Security alert." "Computer breach in lab 14." "Security alert." "Computer breach in lab 14." "Come on, damn it!" "Wake up." "No!" "Please!" "No!" "Ritchie!" "No." "No!" "No!" "No!" "There's no end to this!" "What are you talking about?" "These dreams..." "these dreams, they just..." "They just keep coming again and again." "And every time I think I'm awake... and everything is real, I'm back in the same nightmare!" "Lenny, Lenny, please... please tell me that I'm awake, OK?" "Tell me that this isn't just some other bad dream." "You're going to wish this was a dream." "The cops are in the living room waiting to talk to you." "The cops?" "That new guy you're working for..." "Mr. Hunt... they found him dead last night." "This isn't happening." "Ritchie!" "Did you kill him?" "I need to wake up, Lenny." "No, no, no, no!" "Don't let 'em in!" "You did kill him, didn't you?" "Freeze!" "No!" "No!" "No!" "No!" "No!" "Please don't shoot me again!" "I can't..." "I can't take it anymore!" "It hurts!" "I'm sorry, OK?" "!" "I'm sorry I killed you!" "I don't know what happened." "I just snapped!" "I am so sorry!" "Please..." "Please don't hurt me anymore!" "Wake up." "No!" "By extracting key moments from the convict's memory... we are able to recreate, virtually, in our computers... all the events surrounding their crime... including their incarceration at this facility." "Now in the case of Mr. Almares here... we've designed a repeating dream scenario... where he will experience murder... in the same manner in which he killed... with a gun." "And of course... in each scenario, his killer is your husband." "Well, a virtual likeness anyway." "And this all feels real to him?" "100%." "Mr. Almares here is just moving out... of the acceptance phase of our scenario... into the retribution stage... where he will experience the 47 more deaths... that he has been sentenced to... each one more traumatizing than the last." "In ten years, we hope this program... will actually make prisons obsolete." "If you ask me, he's getting off easy." "Ritchie Almares' prison... has no walls, no bars, not even a single guard." "It's simply a state of mind... from which there can be no escape." "Sweet dreams, Ritchie." "Wake up!"