All language subtitles for Grotesquerie.S01E08

A significant hurdle is

the efficient delivery of rna molecules

to cancer cells

while avoiding off-target effects.

It's unstable in the body.

And then there's

a high likelihood of immune responses.

The answer, I believe

is in developing ultra
sophisticated nanoparticles

to encapsulate and
protect rna molecules,

improving their stability.

Let's, pick this up next
session, guys, okay?

It's good of you to see me, doctor.

I didn't think you would.

You're the last holdout within
your mother's inner circle.

Well, doctor witticomb,

I'm not really sure what good I'd be,

or even what your
approach to her therapy is.

I mean, how exactly am I
important to this process?

It's controversial, what I do.

Neuroimaging.

Functional mri and eeg show

patterns of brain activity
that look like aspects

- of dream activity.
- So she was...

"Locked in" rather than comatose?

She was in a liminal state,

and at times, very aware of her dreams.

She has an extraordinary recall of them.

And if we can advance the science

of communicating to people in comas,

my hope is we can find
ways to awaken them.

Well.

I'd feel like an asshole if I didn't help.

Thanks.

I should warn you, it's
not an enjoyable process.

You'll hear things you won't like.

Do you mind if I record you?

Fire away.

In her dream,

you were in, some sort
of reality television show.

Television? I hate television.

The only thing I watch
is, like, the wire on a loop.

So, what's the name
of the show I was on?

Half-ton trauma.

A show in which morbidly obese people...

Try to lose weight.

I told you this would not be easy.

Well, that woman isn't easy.

Your star patient.

Just center.

Good, good. Okay. It's okay.

It's okay. Just try it again.

Good, just...

Shit.

I couldn't do this before I was in a coma.

Jesus Christ!

What the fuck do you want?

Just want to see how you're doing.

Fuck off.

You tried to kill me.

I heard all of it. All of it!

Lois, you hallucinated
half of what you heard.

- I wasn't trying to kill you.
- I was trying to keep you alive.

- Lois, please...
- I-I

I am done with all of this, all of you.

I-I want to go home. I
just want to go home.

Okay, let me just... one second.

It's okay. Let me just...

- It's okay.
- Don't touch me.

- Okay, just reach out...
- don't touch me!

Paddles!

Mom, you better fight.

Clear. I need adrenaline.

You fucking bitch. Fight!

You know, I never understood
why you're such a royalist.

Look at them, disasters in the making.

Di, filled with terror and hope.

Charles, grim and loving someone else.

I'm gonna roast a chicken. Yeah?

Could use a prep chef.

I don't really want to
move, I'm not hungry.

It's fine, yeah.

I could use the activity actually.

Maybe you'll be hungry
by the time it's ready?

Always think of the future,

even if it's only in one-hour increments.

That's why I like the royal family.

They're always thinking about the future

but always in relation to
the traditions of the past.

I guess we need all
the rituals we can get.

Like roasting a chicken.

I'm not staying in it.

She's awake. I'm divorcing her.

I'm done.

Can you do that?

I mean, can you live with that decision?

You stayed for all of it.

Why would you stay with me anymore

if I didn't leave now?

The ritual of it?

You being here?

And, you know, I think that maybe

this is the place where
you're really at peace, right?

Don't do it because you
think you'll lose me if you don't.

I started the process
to get her out of my life.

I saw the lawyer, Mr. Berger.

He's drawing it up.

I hope she has some
sort of life after all this,

that she realize that to
stay together is impossible

when you know too much
about who you both are.

She knows I wanted her to die.

I whispered in her ear during visits.

First it was, "you can go."

Then it progressed to...
Please just fucking die.

She heard everything the doctors said.

Can you imagine the
level of stamina and control

to be in a coma and never turn off

your fucking satellites and antenna?

Charles.

I always admired him.

She was clearly mentally ill.

He was clearly hardwired for duty.

He kept going, living in his duty.

Finally finding happiness with
the woman he always loved.

- I think I'll eat now.
- Yeah.

With chief of police, Megan duval.

So, you would not
describe your relationship

with detective try on as adversarial?

No. She was a mentor to me.

She was thrilled when I became chief.

I listened to her. I took her counsel.

And what about the
case of Andrea salana?

How do you think she handled that?

She blew it. She totally blew it.

She should have helped
that woman way earlier,

and I was very up-front about it.

Go on.

It was shit police work,

and she was guilty, she was slipping

and she was tired and...

And I fucking let her know it.

It did result in some tension,

but she was always
very up-front with me,

and I had to pay her the same respect.

We did have one fight

right before her retirement party

where I let her know how I felt.

She had sudden qualms
about actually leaving,

and I said, "hey, babe, it's time."

I had made this punch.

What color was the punch?

Purple.

Violet really.

It was awful.

- Go to hell.
- Cheers.

Thank you, chief.

One last thing. The color of the punch,

was it more like

the color of a bruise?

Yes.

Very much so.

And were there bruises
on Andrea salana's body

when she was found
dead? Purple bruises?

She had been beaten to death, yes.

She looked like a different
species from all the bruising.

You're late.

I'm mad hungry.

Blood sugar must be low or something.

I don't know.

I'm not in the mood for your shit, Justin.

I'll heat up the Chinese.

Is this what you want?

Is it?

You know I'm gonna have a
shiner from your fucking fist!

And they know you at the precinct.

Too many bruises, too
many emotional crying calls.

You want me to just end this for you?

Is that what you want, Justin?

You don't have the fucking balls, Meg.

Just get the fuck out.

It's my house.

My house, my rules, my

fine. Stay then.

Enjoy dinner, you fuck.

Fuck!

Fucking bitch!

Hello.

Checking in?

Would you like some ice, my dear?

Just a quiet room, please.

Thank you.

Well, we did meet, but
you were barely awake,

coming back from the dream state.

So, are you ready to go
back to the real world?

I mean, I am.

It's just... It's a lot to process.

You know? And... My
dreams were just so real.

And it will take a long time to unpack,

but we can do that together.

If you want, sessions
a few times a week,

sifting through whatever
you do remember?

I was in a coma for six weeks, and it...

Felt like a lifetime.

Then, other times, it
just felt like one long

night of an endless nightmare.

And-and sometimes I feel like

I'm-I'm still in a coma,
and I'm just in a maze,

trying to work my way through.

I feel like that now.

We are both very much awake.

And I think there are very few cases

as valuable as yours, Lois,

in terms of understanding
the ways in which

the subconscious plays a
part in activating and healing

and even reawakening
the brain and body.

Are you sure?

I was there, Lois.

I saw your brain activity.

I saw areas of your brain light up.

I know the emotions you were feeling,

and I know when you felt them.

I just feel... stuck.

My dreams were very...
Very violent, I know.

Yeah.

And when you're able to discuss those

and what you recollect of them,

the more you'll be able to
put the violence in context

so you can move forward.

Do you remember any of
the conversations we had

where you told me some
of what you dreamed?

Put them all together
and made one body...

We did this for several days.

Like a Frankenstein.

Let's begin.

Why do you think you put your daughter

on a TV show called half-ton trauma?

You would say because
I felt disgusted by her.

Is that what I would
say? What would you say?

I've seen a lot.

You know? In my job, enormous shut-ins

dead of heart disease,

lifted out of their homes by a crane.

In the dream, there were
times when you force-fed merritt.

This is a safe place to talk about it.

I don't know why I was that angry at her.

In dreams,

it's safer to express
anger than in waking life.

Or perhaps you aren't angry
at all but ashamed of her?

Which could be even harder
for you to process than anger.

Is that possible?

I don't... I don't, I don't, I don't even know

why we got to talk about this.

I-I just want to put it all behind me

and move forward.

I read somewhere
that-that-that we're not even

supposed to remember our
dreams. That's why we don't, and...

May I tell you what I think?

You felt a lack of
control in your marriage,

so you put your husband in a coma.

What else?

You felt threatened by
your colleague, Megan,

a person who seemed
to do everything right,

when you were always in the wrong,

a "holier than thou" figure,
so you literally made her a nun.

And what about grotesquerie?

Does it... represent me?

Grotesquerie is the stand-in, the totem.

For the way the world,
according to Lois try on, now is.

What your work exposed
you to, what you suppress.

The long-term PTSD of the work you did.

I looked that word up.

"Grotesquerie." it means

"to live in a world" that is grotesque

and make-believe."

It was hardly make-believe.

You were a homicide detective

dealing with the most
unspeakable crimes.

I've read your case files.

What you dealt with could only
be described as such, grotesque.

I feel like you were the tip of some spear,

fighting the spirit of evil in our time.

Almost someone who
sacrificed themselves

in order to combat it.

Maybe.

I have seen the worst
of the worst of the worst,

daily, endlessly.

Endlessly.

In my dreams.

I was still a drunk.

Which I am not.

"Anymore. Not anymore."

But dreams of using
are very, very common

in addicts and alcoholics.

A way of making sense of the shackles,

trying to free oneself.

Is sobriety not a lifetime of
day-to-day decision making?

What about Andrea?

Go!

Andrea?

What do you think?

Your guilt, Lois.

Mishandling that case
was the tipping point.

A horrible tragedy, but also the catalyst

for you finally asking for help.

Yeah.

My sponsor, ed. Merritt's husband...

In the dream, you made
him a caretaker. Fitting.

How did the affair with
ed begin in real life?

He was just there.

It's that simple, doctor.

Getting sober is a shock to the system.

You have to relearn how to be a person.

You gonna let me off the hook

for fucking my daughter's husband?

Only you can do that.

What else?

Dr. Mayhew. Charlie.

This is particularly fascinating to me

because it proves that you were
cognizant of your surroundings.

Well, he-he turned out to be the killer.

You felt powerless.

You were hearing someone
who was supposed to be your ally

talking about ending your
life, taking you off the ventilator.

So you thrust him with Megan.

They became lovers in your fantasy.

The two people trying to
take your job and your life.

You were so alone.

The only person who cared
about you in the end was...

Marshall's girlfriend.

Whom you cast as a
nurse in charge of his care.

The person your husband
was cheating on you with

became a malevolent archetype.

I didn't hate her.

I mean

there were some
feelings of bitterness, but

that woman is a goddamn Saint

to deal with Marshall all those years.

I mean, god only knows
what would've happened

if I would've had to
deal with him by myself.

Maisie, who worked
as your housekeeper,

you board her as well, I believe?

What about maisie?

In your dream

she murdered children.

I find it interesting that,

of the many people
who incurred your wrath

she wasn't one of them.

You helped maisie,
got her to the hospital,

empathized with her.

And in return, she
helped you catch the killer.

You know how we met, maisie and I?

Choose life! Choose life!

She chained herself to an abortion clinic.

- Choose life! Choose life!
- Choose life! Choose life!

I got called to the scene.

They cut her loose, and...

She was yelling in my face,
all this pro-life nonsense.

And the more she wailed

the more I saw myself.

Under the

layers of grandstanding
was the same stuff.

Love.

Fear.

Hope.

Most of all, hope.

And what about today?

Do you still feel hope?

It comes and it goes. Hope.

A very wise conclusion.

To be continued.

Yup.

I got it. I got it.

Thanks.

Do you know why nobody
was there to pick you up?

I got a pretty good guess.

The affairs.

Everyone was interviewed
by the brilliant Dr. Witticomb

so you know something
about my dreams.

That and my general unpleasantness.

Let me set you straight on a few things.

I have only respect for you.

I idolized you.

You want to turn me into a
killer, that's your business.

Jesus Christ.

They were the dreams of
a woman in a coma, okay?

They're not binary representations

of real feelings.

You don't resent me?

Usurped you?

Look, kid, I have
enough to feel shitty about

for things that I did in my waking life.

Let's not make me responsible
for my subconscious, too.

Y-You think, if you had
a glimpse into your mind,

you'd like what you saw?

Really like what you saw?

That's exactly the response
of your entire generation.

"We're not responsible for anything."

And you millennials blame
us for everything around you.

Such fucking professional
victims, all of you.

E-Entitled, outraged
at-at real grown-up shit.

It's the real world.

Not something we did to you.

Well, let's count them.

The selfishness acts.

Doing nothing to tackle
the problems you create.

Leaving us to clean up all your messes.

The way you left me to clean
up the Andrea salana mess.

Okay.

That's what this is about.

You resent me for that case.

It's not about global
warming or whatever the fuck.

I was your partner. I looked bad, too.

And I trusted you.

And I'm named in her family's lawsuit

against the department because of you.

But I'm not your enemy.

Clearly, you're not.

I mean, you were kind
enough to pick me up today,

to give me lessons in your virtues.

Typical millennial self-righteousness.

Surprised you ain't
sued me and my dreams

for emotional distress.

I should.

Grow the fuck up.

And one more thing.

You may have heard
in my dream coma state

that you were possessed,
foaming at the mouth.

Fascinating. I did not know this.

Also in my dream state,

I distinctly remember you having bruises.

Much like you do right now.

Then, like now, subconscious
or motherfucking reality,

let me be clear, baby girl.

You are being possessed.

Break free while you can.

I see you.

Welcome home, Mrs. Tryon.

Maisie.

And who can blame someone
for what they see in their dreams?

Everyone has a shadow.
Don't they know that?

But

11, good.

One more, one more.

12. Good job.

One more, one more. Come on.

It's too heavy.

Okay, okay, that's good.

You know, you could only
do five when you started.

Don't be so quick to compliment me, Jill.

Lois, you are the only
patient that I've ever met.

One day, you're gonna
confess to me, too.

Didn't you hear it when
I was in that coma?

I heard everything.

Sucking his dick.

Get it all out now.

I've been needing to say to you, so.

I have an idea about
what you want to talk about.

The main thing you want
to discuss, and I don't care.

I mean, your dreams are your dreams.

The shut-in slob living at home,

Okay, it was...

It was self-pity and

finding myself alone in life.

It's rubbed off on you.

Consider that.

They were contagious and
you caught their diseases.

I remember all the good parts.

All of them.

We should go get a vanilla milkshake.