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When Bobby mysteriously drops into a coma in Pittsburgh, Our Intrepid Heroes are forced to stop feeling sorry for themselves long enough to road-trip over to Pennsylvania to figure out what the hell is really going on. Seems some all-too-human psycho got himself addicted to a magical herb that allows him to creep through other people's dreams, and when Bobby got a little too close to cutting off the freak's supply of the stuff, the lunatic waited until Bobby fell asleep, and then ensnared him in a permanent nightmare in which Bobby's long-deceased wife endlessly torments him, because Bobby stabbed her to death after she got herself possessed by a demon oh, so many years ago. Sam and Dean swallow some of the magical herb themselves, though, and manage to snap Bobby out of it, but the freak makes a run for it, and the boys eventually realize that they'll have to put themselves under again in an attempt to lure Batshit Boy out into the open. Well, out into the open of their dreamscape. Or something. Shut up. It made sense when I was watching it.
And so, lure him they do. Unfortunately, Batshit Jeremy's become quite adept at manipulating others' nightmares, and he quickly splits them up, the better for Dean to beat himself to death with his insecurities, fears, and Daddy Issues while Jeremy beats Sam to death with a baseball bat. Fortunately, Sam -- perhaps because of his lingering psychic abilities -- manages to get the upper hand when he dredges up some wicked Daddy Issues Batshit Jeremy's been hanging onto for the last two decades, and he winds up saving both his brother and himself when he bashes Batshit's brains out.
Oh, and Posh Bela steals The Fucking Colt. God, I hate her.
Rattle, Rattle THEN! Hmmm. Let's see: Slutty El Deano had lots and lots of Gumby sex many years ago with some aerobics instructor, or whatever, named Lisa, or whatever, who may or may not have subsequently borne his child, or whatever, and Slutty El Deano was quite chuffed to run into her again earlier in the season right before he scampered off and got himself a vasectomy. In far more annoying news, Posh Bela Talbot introduced herself to Our Intrepid Heroes as the go-to broad they'd want to see if ever they wished to "procure unique items for a select clientele," and she then proceeded to ruin several episodes that otherwise had the potential to be rather entertaining. Meanwhile, Fretful Sammy and His Worried Hair have been busting their collective and rather tantalizing ass trying to keep Dean alive, but Callous El Deano's been acting like he couldn't care less. Of course, this is simply because Callous El Deano's actually a LYING LIAR WHO LIES, as revealed at the end of last week's episode, in which his Ducky Lips puckered with near-debilitating amounts of angst upon receiving the news that he'd eventually become a demon himself. Got all that? Good. Now zip it for the...
...Silence, Silence NOW! Bad-ass Bobby -- hi, Bobby! -- warily creeps through the first floor of a darkened Victorian, his feeble flashlight leading the way. Something unearthly whispers through the air behind him, but Bobby soldiers on nevertheless, picking his way carefully into the house's kitchen until he's...set upon by a screaming banshee in a white nightgown! DUN! The camerawork gets all dizzyingly hand-held as the banshee slams Bad-ass Bobby to the floor and starts handing him his grizzled ass on a platter, but just as suddenly as the attack had begun, the audience gets pimp-slapped over to...
...a rather peaceful Bobby slumbering quietly upon a motel room's bed. Buhzuh? "Did you not read the promotional materials, you silly little man?!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, contempt for your faithful recapper rouging each syllable. "For that matter," Raoul continues, casting a baleful glare in my general direction over my apparent stupidity, "did you not read this episode's title!? It's a dream sequence!" Well, duh, Raoul. I'm not that frigging dumb; I was simply attempting to illus-- "Oh, do be quiet and get on with it already! You and I both know there's nary a single, solitary SPLAT! of gore until the end of this dreary episode, so hurry along! Now!" Goddamn, Raoul! Fine! If you'll shut that gaping maw of yours long enough for me to-- "CHOP-CHOP!" Stupid Raoul. "I HEARD THAT!"