Fringe responds to those who have been accusing it of ripping off The X-Files by ripping off Buffy instead. In Seattle, a dude thinks his boss is a demon, attacks him, then dies of exhaustion. As similar cases pile up, the Fringe team traces the cause to a sleep clinic that has been implanting tiny computers in people's brains to help them with their sleep problems. The head researcher is horrified, of course, and does what he can to assist in the investigation. Peter thinks someone is attempting to hijack the chips for purposes of mind control, but when Walter gets the opportunity to test one of the chips on a hapless FBI rookie who's been assigned to babysit him (Keith from Scrubs), he learns what it's really being used for -- to steal people's dreams and experience them like a drug. And it's the seemingly cooperative sleep researcher who's been behind it all along. Olivia figures it out just in time to save a seaplane full of passengers from an artificially-induced nightmare that the researcher is causing the pilot to have during takeoff. He couldn't have picked a hermit or something?
She's also working on a mystical little side project for Sam Weiss to help her get over Charlie. Which she completes, so I guess that's all better. And it turns out that Peter used to be plagued by nightmares of his own, and suddenly, they're back. We learn a little bit about those, too -- damn little.
That jaunty neon "Bowling 16 Lanes" sign over the bowling alley sure clashes with the businesslike floaty letters next to it reading, "BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS." Inside, Sam Weiss doesn't look up from the book he's reading at the shoe rental counter to tell a visitor, "We're closed." Who else does he think it is other than Olivia? For of course it is she, returning her bowling shoes and thanking him for helping her get her memories back. Even though he wasn't in the episode when that happened. He just looks at her a long time before asking, "Who died?" Whoa, he's better than I thought.
A bit later, they're over by the lanes and she's apparently told him at least part of the story about Charlie and Gnarlie. "I guess getting your memory back wasn't your only problem," he observes, although he conspicuously declines to argue with her claim that she can handle her other issues. He prescribes "something to help you with everything you've been going through. Something to help you make sense of it all." Olivia figures he means bowling, but instead he starts to write something down on a sheet of spiral notepaper and says, "Whether you admit it or not, your life is something of a nightmare." For one thing, he's calling her by her first name now. He rips off the sheet and folds it over, sliding it across the table to her and saying, "I hope you don't have anything against the color red." No, just color in general, going by her wardrobe and makeup palette. We can't see what's written on the paper. All we can see is the bottom edge, folded up so that it doesn't quite cover the sheet's torn-off fringe. FRINGE! OMG A FRINGE!!!1!!
A pair of wingtipped feet step off an elevator into a floor-level lobby, which would be a lot more spacious if not for the big floaty letters reading "SEATTLE, WASHINGTON" taking up so much room. The mystery man is carrying a silver briefcase. Well, at least we know it's not one of the Observer's couriers; they carry black ones. This guy, though, looks like he has some dark intent of his own as he makes his way through a cube farm. A coworker warns that the boss is pretty pissed at him, and he continues walking. Though he doesn't fail to notice that the mailroom guy has turned into a vampire-toothed beastie, that another office guy has apparently been into the facial prosthetics from Angel, and a blonde woman's highlights can't draw attention from her fangs and green face. Finally our guy makes it into the conference room, where the boss (you can tell he's the boss because he's the one wearing suspenders) snaps at him, "Leeder, do you know how much trouble you've caused me? I am gong to destroy you!" And of all the monsters in the office, he's the scariest one of all, looking like Demon Giles, ram's horns and all. Our guy clubs him across the face with his briefcase, sending him sprawling across the conference table, and decks the coworker who tries to intervene before continuing to bring the case down on top of his boss's face, which is alternating between the demon-face and the boss-face (which is often confused for a demon-face by those who have undergone long-term exposure), although both versions are equally bloody and soon inert. Finally a couple of guys pull him away and pin him to the wall, where the camera focuses in on his eyes. They're shuttling from side to side like he's watching a tennis match in fast-forward mode. Fringey!