A short time later, Sam's brewed up a couple of mugfuls of the magical herb, and he and Dean settle on the room's twin beds to ingest the crap. First, though, they have to dump a pinch of Bobby's hair into the mix, for as Sam explains, "That's how you control whose dream you're in -- you gotta, uh, drink some of their body." Dean is, of course, grossed out by the very prospect of sucking down any part of Bobby's body at all, but shrugs and slings the hair into his cup anyway. The boys clink a toast, then slug the foul liquid back. Nothing happens. Well, nothing happens until Darling Sammy notices it's suddenly started raining outside. Dean crosses to the window to look, and corrects Darling Sammy's observation, because it has in fact suddenly started raining upside down. DUN! As Dean spins around, what color there'd been up to this point drains out of the scene just as he and Sam find themselves in that Victorian from Bobby's nightmare at the top of the hour. Bravo to the production staff, by the way, because I can't tell if they've green-screened Dean's turn, or if they've simply shifted set pieces around for that little bit, but that whole continuous spin away from the motel window into Bobby's nightmare was seamless.
In any event, after Keanuing about the whole bizarre situation for a moment, Sam realizes that this tastefully appointed Victorian is actually Bobby's house, albeit with radically altered interior décor. They slink through the main floor, urgently whispering Bobby's name, until Stupid Sam comes up with the brilliant idea of checking out the exterior on his own. Dean wisely hisses that they should stay together, because duuuuuh, but Stupid Sam ignores this excellent advice and blunders his way out into...
...an entirely different dreamscape altogether! Yep, he emerges from the nighttime gloom of the Victorian's front hall not into the rainswept evening, but rather onto a stunningly sunlit front porch facing a vibrantly colored front yard, complete with cheery little songbirds chirping in the surrounding trees. D'OH! Ominously enough, of course, the house's front door slams shut and locks itself of its own accord behind him. DUN!
Back inside, Dean continues to lurk through the main floor, shouting Bobby's name until a timid little reply comes from the mud room closet off the kitchen. "Who's out there?" Bobby whimpers. Dean's freaked, because the Bad-ass Bobby he knows would never pull that touchy-feely self-help whimpering crap, bitch. Shoving aside his doubts, though, he warily approaches the door -- claw-scarred from the banshee, natch -- and convinces wimpy whimpering Bobby to come out. "Of the closet?!" Raoul shrieks. Not like that, you screechy little fool. "Ooops! Sorry! Hee!" ANY-way, the instant Bobby shows himself, Dean starts babbling about the magical herb and The Good Doctor and whatnot, but Dream Bobby hasn't a freaking clue what Dean's going on about, and what's more, he descends into a mad panic when the kitchen lights start buzzing and blinking and flickering on and off. Dashing El Deano manfully grabs Dream Bobby by the latter's shoulders and shakes, yelling, "It's a dream, Bobby -- none of this is real!" "Does that look made up?" Dream Bobby quakes, shakily raising a finger to indicate The Woman In White who's just now joining this evening's festivities in clearly visible person. And, frankly, she's a bit of a mess, what with those hideous gashes marring the otherwise flawless skin on her neck and chest. "Wait! What!? Is it?! IT IS! GOOOOOOOOOOORE!" "You deceitful little man!" Raoul chides after he's finished writhing himself into a tizzy on his overstuffed armchair. "You told me I'd have to wait until the end!" I...wanted to surprise you? "Well, you've succeeded!" Raoul shrieks, clapping his freshly manicured paws together with glee. "Those ro-bust gouges in that woman's chest are simply delightful!" I'm glad you appreciate them, my scaly friend. "And did you see what I did there?!" Yes, Raoul. Yes, I did. Now stuff a sock in it so I can get us the hell out of this sequence, okay? "Okay!"