FADE IN EXT. CHURCHYARD - NIGHT CLOSE ON: a word carved in stone: 'DREAMS'. BEGIN CREDITS PULL BACK to reveal the full inscription: 'FOR IN THAT SLEEP OF DEATH WHAT DREAMS MUST COME.' It's carved on a large obelisk grave marker. Beneath the inscription is a name: THIBAULT, and dates: 1861-1917. PULL FURTHER BACK: Perched on the marker is a stone effigy of the angel of death, wings spread wide, half-smile on her face. AND FURTHER BACK: Ropes are wrapped around the marker. The ropes tighten, and the marker is suddenly PULLED OVER, the CAMERA taking off with it -- The marker is dragged along, through deep grass ... then with a bump it's on a dirt road, then over a bridge. It's dragged by a team of horses. Rain starts to fall. The marker pulls away, continuing on toward -- Burgess Manor, a dark outline against the gray marble sky -- END CREDITS INT. BURGESS MANOR - GARAGE - CIRCA 1930'S - NIGHT The garage was once the carriage house. Several luxury cars, circa 1930s, fill the bays. The marker lies in an empty one. Two men stand nearby. One is RODERICK BURGESS. A commanding presence, radiating a charisma both disturbing and mesmerizing. He is in his early twenties, but his soul is much older -- and darker. The other is SMITH. Middle-aged, face drawn, he peers out of the garage furtively. He's worried, preoccupied. A white clerical collar is almost hidden beneath his coat and scarf. SMITH (hopefully) The rain will wash out the tracks ... Burgess moves slowly to the marker. BURGESS I've found it. Crowley couldn't. Mathers couldn't. Only I could. SMITH I didn't see anybody on the road ... Burgess isn't listening to him; he's preoccupied with the marker. He examines it gleefully, reverently. BURGESS Thibault had it stolen from the Vatican Library -- that's common knowledge. But then it disappeared. He told Yeats he'd destroyed it. But he didn't. He couldn't. And now -- I've found it. SMITH I don't think anyone saw me. Burgess finally looks at the man. Cocks his head, amused. BURGESS Don't worry, Vicar. No one saw you. No one knows what you've done -- except you and me. And God. (insinuating) Just like your other little ... peccadilloes. The Vicar shuts his eyes in pain. SMITH Please ... (looks at Burgess) What they say is true. You are the most wicked man alive. BURGESS (chuckles) I've always liked that title. He grabs up a sledge hammer, startling the other man -- as he intended. He smiles, and SMASHES the hammer down on the marker. Another blow. Another -- The marker is hollow. Hidden inside is a large oilskin bundle. Burgess drops the sledge. Lifts out the bundle. Burgess unwraps it carefully. Inside is a thick book. BURGESS The Magdalene Grimoire. Finally. The book is heavy, leather bound, brittle with age. Burgess pages through it greedily. It is filled with tiny, cramped writing, arcane diagrams, drawings. SMITH That's it then? You can do it now? You can ... capture the angel of death? BURGESS Death isn't an angel. She's one of the Endless ... who existed long before angels ... and will exist long after the final cherubim has sung its last hosanna. SMITH Heresy. BURGESS For your sake, hope it's not. The Magdalene Grimoire is all the Order of Ancient Mysteries needed. With it, we will summon and imprison Death. (beat) And I will command who shall live ... and who shall die. SMITH Then ... you'll keep our bargain? (no answer) Please -- you'll keep your promise? BURGESS Of course, Vicar. You have my word. You won't die. And you will never have to stand in the judgment of your God. (clasps him on the shoulder; cheery) Good night. He exits the garage, for the main house. Smith looks down at the marker, at the shattered effigy of death. SMITH Thank God -- He catches himself, realizing he shouldn't be praying. His eyes fill with tears; he slumps. SMITH What have I done? INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - NIGHT Candles burn in the darkness. Robed figures inscribe a large circle on the floor -- chalk white against the black stone. Runic characters decorate it. ACOLYTE It is midnight, Lord Magus. BURGESS It is time. Elspeth, love..? A beautiful YOUNG WOMAN nods adoringly. She crouches on all fours at Burgess' feet. Items are placed on her back: a ceremonial bowl, inside which floats a human heart. A long twisted knife. A feather. Coins. The Magdalene Grimoire. She is a human altar. Burgess opens the book. He begins to intone, displaying the items as he names them: BURGESS I give you coin I made from a stone. I give you a song I stole from the dirt. I give you a knife from under the hills. And a stick I stuck through a dead man's eye. I give you a claw I ripped from a rat. I give you a name, and the name is lost. He jabs his forearm with the knife. Blood drips onto the feather. BURGESS (CONT'D) I give you blood from out of my vein, and a feather I pulled from an angel's wing. He throws the feather into the circle. BURGESS (CONT'D) I summon with poison, and summon with pain. I open the way and open the gates. Come. The acolytes echo the word 'Come.' BURGESS (CONT'D) I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar. Allatu. Morax. Naberius. Klesh. Vepar. Maymon. We summon. The acolytes chant 'Come.' BURGESS (CONT'D) From the dark they call you ... into the dark they call you. Coin and song, knife and stick ... In the center of the circle, the air SHIMMERS -- BURGESS (CONT'D) Claw and name, blood and feather ... Here in the darkness ... The air SOLIDIFIES, taking shape -- The acolytes echo 'Here in the darkness.' BURGESS (CONT'D) Here in the darkness, we summon you together. COME! There is FLASH -- -- and a black-cloaked FIGURE materializes in mid-air. His head and face are covered by a HELM that looks like the skull of some dead ancient god (which it is). A large, vibrant heart-shaped RUBY adorns his neck. A small leather POUCH hangs from one hand. -- and then the figure collapses. He lies splayed on the floor, in the center of the circle. The acolytes are hushed, amazed. ACOLYTE We did it. I don't believe it. We did it -- BURGESS No. We failed. This isn't Death. Damn it to hell. Silence from the others as Burgess considers the figure. BURGESS Even so ... strip him. The Acolyte nods, reaches across the circle -- -- and SCREAMS as his arm TWISTS violently, torqued by some unseen force. Burgess shoves him away from the circle. BURGESS Fool! If you'd broken the circle, he could have escaped! He grabs Elspeth by the hair, slashes with the knife -- Elspeth's head lolls to one side. Burgess catches her before she collapses. ACOLYTE My god -- Burgess lets Elspeth fall to the ground. He holds his hands up like a surgeon. They are stained with Elspeth's blood. Careful not to break the circle, Burgess steps close to the captured FIGURE. With bloody hands he strips off the cloak. He takes the ruby. He takes the pouch. And then he removes the helm -- The face revealed is bone white, framed by jet black hair. An aquiline nose and high cheekbones, a face carved from finest marble -- save the eyes. These are obsidian, deep as the universe -- and staring directly at Burgess. He is the personification of dream. He is SANDMAN. Burgess draws back, unsettled. BURGESS (shaken) ... I think, at day's end, this will have been a very profitable evening's work. With a gesture, he orders the acolytes out. Burgess continues to stare at Sandman as he backs out of the room. The door to the room pivots on an axis; the other side is brick. It is clearly a secret room. The door swings shut. Sandman lies on the floor, unmoving. And then -- -- a single, small tear slips down his cheek -- From somewhere in the empty room comes the SOUND of water DRIPPING, slowly. In the corner, a drop of water slips from a pipe, courses down the wall to the floor. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. THE WORLD - VARIOUS A scratchy recording of 'Dream a Little Dream of Me' fades in and out. We see images, drifting, dreamlike, drawn from news reels, photographs, drawings: A bread line. Gandhi. Astaire and Rogers, dancing. Flagpole sitting and dance marathons. Hitler at a rally ... INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - CIRCA LATE 1940S - NIGHT CLOSE ON: Sandman's eyes. He's sitting up now, hugging his knees to his chest. But still unmoving. Burgess, nearly twenty years older, sits in a chair opposite him, studying him. BURGESS I know you can grant me boons. Power. Immortality. A promise you won't seek revenge. (beat) Well? I know you can understand me. Say something! Sandman does not respond. Does not move. Just stares. BURGESS (CONT'D) Damn you. The door pivots, and ALEX BURGESS pushes in. He's seven, and he wants nothing more than to please his father. He carries a large folio, dusty and falling apart. ALEX Sir! I found it! BURGESS Yes, Alex? ALEX See? Here. In the Paginarum Fulvarum. He leafs through the folio. It is filled with old drawings and paintings. We catch quick glimpses of figures titled Destiny, Death, Desire, figures we will learn more of later. ALEX (CONT'D) You said he had to be one of the Endless. But it wasn't Death. And it's not Desire, or Despair -- or Destiny. That'd been brilliant if you'd caught him -- um ... Burgess has fixed him with a stern look, humbling him. ALEX (CONT'D) Uh, anyway ... Here. He finds the drawing he's looking for, displays it: A Heirmonyous Bosch-like portrait of Sandman in his helm and cloak. Terrifying. The drawing is inscribed 'Here is said thee Kinge of Dremes.' ALEX (CONT'D) See? He's Dream. (reading) Morpheus, Lord Shaper. the Prince of Stories ... the Sandman. Burgess takes the folio, examines it, nodding. BURGESS Yes. I was hoping you'd work it out on your own one day. And you have. Well done, Alex. ALEX Thank you, father -- BURGESS Father? ALEX (chastised) Thank you, Lord Magus. (gathers his courage) Sir ... Since you know his true name, can't you make him do what you want? BURGESS Cretin. That kind of magick is too trifling for him and his ilk. The Endless are not mortal ALEX But if they're gods -- BURGESS They are not gods. Gods come and go. Gods fade away. ALEX But ... are we safe? What if his brothers and sisters come after us? Burgess broods on this ... glances at a shelf. On it lie Sandman's helm, pouch and ruby. He fingers the helm. BURGESS Protection can be had. Deals can be struck ... (to Alex) You've never seen a summoning, have you, son? Tonight, you will. We'll conjure a demon of hell. And trade this -- (lifts the helm) -- for our safety. (turns to leave) Inform the acolytes. ALEX Yes, Lord Magus. But what about ... what about him? BURGESS He will not get out unless the circle is broken. And the circle will not be broken unless I order it. He leaves, Alex trailing. Sandman watches them go.. In the corner, a DROP of water slips from a pipe, courses down the wall to the floor. Twenty years has worn a channel in the stone; the drop flows along it. And then another ... DISSOLVE TO: EXT. THE WORLD - VARIOUS More time goes by, more images, dreamlike: McCarthy in the Senate. Lenin reviewing a May Day parade. Walt Disney opening Disneyland. Hula hoops, 3-D movies, Elvis. The KKK marching on Washington. All accompanied by the Everly Brothers' version of 'All I Ever Do is Dream.' INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - CIRCA 1960S - NIGHT The door pushes open. Burgess enters, slightly drunk. At sixty, he's still handsome and vital. With him is -- RACHEL. Beautiful in the extreme, radiating sexual heat. Dressed in the counterculture style of the day. She is giggling -- then draws up short at the sight of Sandman. RACHEL My God ... it's true. She circles Sandman slowly. Alex, now in his twenties, has followed them into the room; he watches Rachel's every step. RACHEL (CONT'D) He's magnificent. And you caught him, Lord Magus? Burgess smiles -- but it fades when Alex speaks. ALEX Actually, it was a mistake. He was trying to -- BURGESS Shut up, Alex. RACHEL Is he a demon? BURGESS (shakes his head) He's more dangerous than any demon I've known. He scoops up the pouch from the shelf. BURGESS (CONT'D) Here. This is what I told you about. (opens the pouch) The stuff that dreams are made of ... ALEX (to himself) 'Made on.' Quote it right, you old idiot ... He goes unheard as Burgess sprinkles some of the sand into his own hand. It sparkles. He holds it out to Rachel. BURGESS No matter how much you take out, there's always some left ... Try it. RACHEL How do I ..? Sniff it? BURGESS Sniff it, swallow it, rub it on your skin ... pour it in your eyes ... it doesn't matter. Rachel considers. Puts one finger in her mouth, moistening it, rolls it in the sand. With a wicked grin, eyes never leaving Burgess', she trails her hand down toward her jeans -- Burgess stares, panting slightly -- Her fingers slips beneath the waistband. Between her legs -- BURGESS Oh, Rachel ... You are a wild one ... She smiles, shows her teeth -- her eyes go wide. She is seeing something beautiful, rapturous. She is seeing life as a dream. RACHEL Oh ... oh, my ... Roderick sets the pouch down, moves to Rachel. Begins to nuzzle her neck, undress her. She responds to him -- -- but her eyes never leave the pouch. Alex's gaze lingers on Rachel as he backs away. Then he steps discreetly out of the room. And Sandman continues to watch ... and wait ... INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - NIGHT The door opens. Alex slips in, followed by Rachel. RACHEL Is he really what old Roddy says he is? ALEX I don't know ... Stupid old Roddy should've died by now and left me in charge ... he really can work some sort of magic ... RACHEL That sand ... that was magic ... Alex grabs the pouch. Considers, then takes the ruby as well. He heads for the door. Rachel catches him. RACHEL Please ... just a little. Alex considers. Opens the pouch. Rachel pinches out some sand, sniffs it. It takes effect immediately, transporting her. Alex grabs her hand. ALEX Come on ... She pulls against him, grabs for the pouch. He lets her take it. She clutches it. One last look at Sandman; then she allows herself to be led from the room. Sandman gazes after them. In the corner, a DROP of water slips from the pipe, courses down the wall to the floor. Flows along the channel, which now leads to a small pool. DISSOLVE TO: EXT. THE WORLD - VARIOUS More time goes by. Nixon, victorious over McGovern. An EST meeting, slam dancing punks, a 'Star Wars' line. The Ayatollah exhorting a mob. The song is 'Dreamweaver.' It skips. INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT A man -- call him DAVID -- sleeps fitfully in the one-room efficiency apartment. He wears the pants and shirt of a postal uniform; the rest is scattered on the floor. The TV is on, volume low, showing Bicentennial celebration news footage. Traffic NOISE comes from outside, mixed with the sound of a DOG BARKING. All the sounds FADE OUT, save the BARKING. It becomes rhythmic, constant. David's eyes flutter open. CORINTHIAN Hello, David. The CORINTHIAN is a young man with silver hair, whipsaw build clothed in white silk pants and T-shirt. He wears small, round dark glasses and an amused smile. DAVID Hello. How did you get in here? CORINTHIAN I wanted to talk to you, David. To tell you that you are not fulfilling your potential. DAVID I'm not? Who are you? CORINTHIAN I'm your friend. You can call me the Corinthian. I want to show you something. He gestures to the TV. The dog continues to BARK. ON SCREEN: what looks like the opening credits of a mid- seventies cop show: studio backlot heroics and car chases. It lingers on a POV shot: approaching a parked red Torino. Two figures inside, one blond, one brunette -- both women. Their hair is almost ridiculously long and straight. David leans forward at the sight of the women. His fists clench. The Corinthian smiles. CORINTHIAN I've shown other people things like this, David. All through history. But none as special as you. ON SCREEN: the POV shot continues. A .44 appears in frame, and FIRES. The windshield shatters, and the brunette's head snaps back -- a bloodless, TV killing. The blond looks up and smiles. The gun FIRES again. David's eyes fill with tears of joy. The rhythmic BARKING continues. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) You see, David? If you can dream it -- you can be it. David saddens. DAVID That's all this is? This isn't really happening? This is a dream? CORINTHIAN Sadly, yes. That's the only way I've ever talked to special people. But ... (David brightens) Something has happened, David. And now you can help me. You can free me. As I can free you. DAVID How? The Corinthian smiles, spreads his hands. CORINTHIAN Wake up, David. Just wake up. CLOSE ON: David, sleeping fitfully. His eyes flutter open. He looks at the TV. The bicentennial footage continues. NORMAL SOUND has returned. DAVID Just a dream ... A hand drops on his shoulder. The Corinthian's hand. CORINTHIAN Not any more. He places something on the bed in front of David -- a .44 REVOLVER. David picks it up reverently. Heavy and real. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) Good-bye, David. Thank you. He rises, heads for the door. DAVID Wait! Will I ever see you again? Will you ... talk with me some more? The Corinthian pauses. CORINTHIAN I'll always be here, David. I'll always talk to you. Just listen. Once again, the SOUND fades away, isolating the BARKING DOG. David listens, nods. The Corinthian nods back, then opens the door and leaves. The door shuts quietly -- and NORMAL SOUND returns. David lifts the revolver. Spins the cylinder. POINTS it at the CAMERA -- CUT TO: INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - CIRCA 1980S - NIGHT Burgess leans heavily on a cane. He is now a withered, fragile old man. He stares at Sandman, who stares back. Suddenly, Burgess is wracked by a violent coughing attack. He gets himself under control. BURGESS It's your fault! Damn you! (resigned) You aren't Death, but you live forever. You haven't aged a day since I caught you. You could have given me power beyond my wildest dreams. (chokes back tears) I ... I didn't have to get so old. I shouldn't have had to get old. He has another violent coughing attack. Slips to one knee. DEATH That's it, let it out. Another person is in the cellar. She looks about nineteen. Long black hair, pale skin. A kinda groovy, perky neo-punk girl-next-door, dressed in black jeans and camisole. An ahnk, the Egyptian symbol for life, hangs from her neck. She looks genuinely concerned for Burgess. And we recognize her face: it was the face of the angel of death on the grave marker. BURGESS Who are you? She gestures. He looks down. Sees -- His own body. Lying on the ground near his feet. Dead. BURGESS (CONT'D) Are you ... you aren't Death ... are you? DEATH smiles, half-shrugs. She knows she's not what he expected. DEATH Hi. BURGESS I tried to catch you once. Got him instead. DEATH I know. BURGESS Am I ... are you going to punish me? Am I bound for hell? DEATH I'm just here to take you from this world to the next ... Destinations are up to you. BURGESS Oh ... I am. I'm going to hell. I'm Roderick Burgess. I'm the most wicked man alive. DEATH (a bright smile) Not anymore. She takes Burgess' hand. Looks up at Sandman. DEATH (CONT'D) (genuine sadness) I'm sorry, little brother ... there's nothing I can do. I ... I miss you. She and Burgess fade into the shadows. We hear a SOFT FLUTTERING SOUND, like WINGS. She's gone. Just Burgess' body on the floor ... And Sandman, watching. The water still DRIPS; the pool in the corner of the room is quite deep now. EXT. THE WORLD - VARIOUS Images leading to the present day. A student stands defiantly in front of a tank. An evangelist breaks down in tears. A white Bronco moves slowly down the freeway. Demonstrators join hands in a field of brightly colored quilts. INT. BURGESS MANOR - CELLAR - PRESENT - NIGHT In the corner, a DROP of water slips from a pipe, courses down the wall to the floor. Flows along the carved channel in the stone, into the pool -- The pool OVERFLOWS. A line of water trickles its way across the floor, across the faded chalk runes of the circle. It wipes the line of chalk away -- The circle is broken. With a cry of pain, Sandman falls forward, collapses outside the circle. He rolls over. Weak. In pain. His lips part. His voice is filled with dark mystery, a voice that can inspire dreams and command nightmares: SANDMAN At ... last. He gathers himself, rises. Stands, a bit unsteady. He looks down at the remains of Roderick Burgess, decayed and brittle with age. He picks up the skull. Regards it. Sandman squeezes. The skull SHATTERS. There is no joy in his eyes as pieces sift out from between his fingers. Sandman looks at the shelf that once held his belongings. Empty. He looks away. Moves toward the door -- EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT Sodium lamps cast a sickly yellow light on the nearly-empty lot. A WOMAN hurriedly click-clacks toward her car, keys already out. She unlocks the door, opens it -- Someone slams it shut: the CORINTHIAN. He has seemingly appeared from nowhere. He smiles at her. CORINTHIAN Beautiful night to be alive, don't you think? WOMAN Stay away from me. She crouches slightly, flexes her fingers. Her red-painted fingernails glint. She knows self-defense. The Corinthian draws a knife lazily, steps forward. The Woman kicks at his shin -- he avoids it. But she brings her foot down on his -- hard. She grabs either side of his head, her thumbs clawing for his eyes behind his sunglasses -- She SCREAMS, yanks her hands back. She crouches, staring down at her hands, which drip with blood. WOMAN (CONT'D) What did you do? The Corinthian straightens his sunglasses. The woman crawls under the car. The Corinthian grabs her ankle -- she SCREAMS, clutches at the pavement, grabs for the tire, as she is inexorably dragged out from under the car. CORINTHIAN (O.S.) Don't worry. I won't kill you. That would draw all sorts of the wrong kind of attention. I just want to look into your eyes -- Suddenly, she is no longer being dragged. She twists, peers out from under the car -- The Corinthian stands still, looking up toward the night sky. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) He's back. He's BACK. No! It's not fair! I won't allow it. I won't go back! He looks down at the woman. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) Don't worry. I can stop him. I'm not going back. She cowers in terror. Opens her eyes -- the Corinthian is gone. She blinks -- it's as if he was never there -- -- except for her hands. The Woman drags herself out from under the car. Raises her hands -- Her THUMBS BLEED, as though bitten through by tiny sharp teeth. She starts to cry. EXT. BURGESS MANOR - NIGHT Boarded up, windows broken, overgrown. Sandman stands under the night sky. Reaches out his arms. Shadows move, and darkness stretches towards him. Sandman wraps the shadows around him -- -- and he is gone. EXT. DREAM REALM - DUSK A SANDSTORM rages; there is the WHITE NOISE of the howling wind. Shadows flow inside of it, and Sandman's dark outline emerges, one arm raised, a shield against the wind. He peers ahead. In front of him is: EXT. DREAM REALM - THE GATES OF HORN AND IVORY - DUSK Ornately carved. Flanked by gargoyles. Sandman is relieved at the sight. SANDMAN The Gates of Horn and Ivory. Once through, I will see my castle ... I will see -- The gates part before him. Sandman steps through -- EXT. DREAM REALM - SANDMAN'S PALACE - DUSK SANDMAN -- my home. Sandman stares in horror -- Ahead of him are the remains of Sandman's Dream Palace. Beautiful, once, but now overgrown and broken -- its glass walls CRACKED, its delicate spires BROKEN. The majestic columns have fallen into RUBBLE. Sandman slumps before it as if struck down. From nearby comes the sound of gentle weeping -- and a voice: LUCIEN (O.S.) Breaks your heart, my Lord, doesn't it? Sandman turns. SANDMAN Lucien? In the shadow of the gates sits LUCIEN, Sandman's librarian. He rises to his feet. Pointed ears and round spectacles, dressed as a clown might dress for a formal dinner. He stares at Sandman, smiling, tears in his eyes. We realize he's weeping at Sandman's return. LUCIEN One and the same, my Lord. (he bows) At your service, as always. (his voice cracks) Welcome home. SANDMAN What happened here? Lucien takes a breath. Wipes the tears from his eyes. LUCIEN What happened? You are the incarnation of this dreamtime, Lord. With you gone, the place ... it started to crumble ... He takes off his spectacles, cleans them. LUCIEN (CONT'D) I was aware of it in my Library. Slowly, the words began to fade. Some time after you vanished, my books became volumes of blank paper. The next day the whole library was gone. (puts on his glasses) I never found it again. SANDMAN I'm sorry, Lucien. LUCIEN I ... I tried, sir. I did my best. We all did. SANDMAN Let's see how it is, then. INT. DREAM REALM - SANDMAN'S PALACE - HALLWAY - DUSK Sandman moves through the ruined palace, around fallen columns and past broken statues. LUCIEN (a sad fact) Most of the palace servants turned back into the dream stuff you made them with -- MATTHEW (O.S.) He's back? He's really back? A WILD FLAPPING SOUND and a sleek black raven -- MATTHEW streaks down, hovers in front of Sandman. MATTHEW (CONT'D) Where have you BEEN? Are you all right? What happened? SANDMAN I was detained. MATTHEW Ha. Detained. You haven't changed, that's good news. SANDMAN Nor have you, Matthew. Sandman surveys the devastation. MATTHEW It's a pisser, ain't it? LUCIEN It hurts me, too, lord. SANDMAN Hurts, yes ... Some power returns to me, simply by being here. But I placed too much of myself in my tools. And they are gone. He sits down on a broken marble stair. SANDMAN (CONT'D) I wonder ... I wonder if it is all even worth rebuilding. Matthew speaks an aside to Lucien, not all that quietly: MATTHEW Hell, I wonder if he can. Lucien shoots Matthew a scolding look. LUCIEN My Lord -- some things you should know, items that need attention right away. Many of the nightkind are missing. Lesser dreams. And ... (he swallows) One of the major nightmares. Sandman cocks an eyebrow, waiting. Lucien doesn't like being the messenger. LUCIEN (CONT'D) The Corinthian. Escaped into the waking world, I'm afraid. Sandman turns away. Before him is his reflection in a cracked mirror, hanging askew on a wall. He looks up into his own eyes a moment, then away -- and in the mirror, we get a glimpse of a fat, gray face -- DESPAIR. SANDMAN How long? LUCIEN Twenty years. SANDMAN There is no telling the harm he may have caused in that time. (beat) I blame myself. Had I been here, fulfilling my function ... MATTHEW Aww ... it wasn't your fault, boss. SANDMAN No? Then whose? (beat) And, in my absence, how much further havoc has been visited upon the waking world? INT. STANFORD RESEARCH CLINIC - NIGHT FACES of SLEEPING PEOPLE, as seen on a row of black-and- white video monitors. Cheap public-sector equipment -- out of date, out of focus, one of the screens flipping endlessly. Below each monitor EKGs slowly churn out reams of graph paper. A DOCTOR moves down the line, checking the readouts with professional indifference. ON SCREEN: A man sleeps peacefully -- his name is PAUL - and then his legs twitch spasmodically, stop. A piece of masking tape is hand-labeled 'PLMS/nocturnal myoclonus.' NEXT SCREEN: An ELDERLY MAN begins thrashing in bed, SCREAMING, pulling out electrodes. His eyes are open but he sees nothing. DOCTOR (checks his watch) Patient seventeen, night terror episode at eleven-oh-five. The Doctor expects a response, doesn't get it. He turns, glances down the line -- where an ASSISTANT studies the length of an EKG read-out, engrossed. DOCTOR (CONT'D) Did you get that? ASSISTANT (re: the read-out) It's gotta be some kind of record. Three day observation program, and she's never made it past a level 2 sleep pattern. Even then just for a few minutes. The Doctor looks interested for the first time, comes over, leaving patient seventeen behind, still SCREAMING. DOCTOR Three days without REM sleep? She should see things crawling the walls by now. ASSISTANT No sign of hallucinations. She's part of the benzodiazepine study ... DOCTOR What's her name? ON SCREEN: is a WOMAN, lovely, her face relaxed in the peaceful beauty of sleep -- but here eyes are wide open, staring enigmatically INTO CAMERA, unblinking. ASSISTANT (O.S.) Rose Walker. INT. STANFORD RESEARCH CLINIC - ROOM - DAY ROSE WALKER, dressed, quickly packs a few items into an overnight bag. The Doctor appears in the doorway. He turns an envelope in his hands. DOCTOR We do appreciate your participation, Miss Walker. Um, if we could persuade you, we'd like to have you back for an individual -- ROSE (cuts him off) Yeah, yeah, I know. Lemme guess. I'm special. You've never seen anything like me. You want to run blood tests and do a night-time polysomnogram. Maybe you'll do a daytime multiple sleep latency test. You'll find that my condition is non-respiratory, and not stress induced. You'll find my eye muscles lack tone because my REM sleep is so rare, but you won't know why. (beat) Is that the check? DOCTOR Yes -- Rose plucks it from his hands. She slings her overnight bag over her shoulder. ROSE Look, no offense, but ... I've been monitored and studied and hooked up to wires since I was ten. If I thought there was any chance that you guys could get me a good night's sleep, I'd take you up on it. But -- She shrugs. A wave of the envelope, and she's gone. EXT. STANFORD RESEARCH CLINIC - DAY The envelope is torn open; Rose examines the check. PAUL (O.S.) How'd you do? PAUL -- who we met briefly, a patient in the sleep center -- has been waiting. He wears a clean denim shirt, and one of those wispy goatees favored by sensitive-artist types. ROSE It'll get me through another semester. You? PAUL Same. Walk you home? ROSE ... sure. Paul notes the reluctance in her voice. PAUL Listen, Rose ... I'm sorry I ... Sorry that ... Rose glances at him from under raised eyebrows, a smile playing across her lips. ROSE Yes, Paul..? PAUL That I couldn't talk to you ... after the other night. ROSE Paul ... don't worry about it. We just had some kind of emotional meltdown and we ended up in bed. It's been known to happen. EXT. BART STATION - DAY Commuters exit the BART station. Rose and Paul pause, pull skateboards from their bags. They ride expertly downhill, winding in and out of the pedestrians. EXT. SAN FRANCISCO HILLS - DAY Skateboards in hand, Rose and Paul trudge up a steep hill. PAUL I really wasn't looking for, uh, you know. I was just ... I've been blocked for so long, and you listen so easy. (beat) I was afraid that I'd, I don't know, seduced you -- Rose laughs. Paul looks hurt. ROSE I'm a grown woman, Paul ... and the whole tormented artist thing is not nearly as attractive as tormented artists think it is. (trying to ease his conscience) Look, this was just one of those things. One of those bells that occasionally rings ... They reach the top of the hill. PAUL A trip to the moon on gossamer wings? ROSE Just one of those things. She sets her board down, pushes off -- EXT. ROSE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY Brownstones converted into low-cost apartments. The tenants are young, struggling: students, artists, coffee-house employees -- sometimes all three at once. Rose arrives at her entrance, Paul close behind. He looks uncomfortable. Rose packs her skateboard. PAUL Hey ... let's go have lunch. ROSE I'm sorry -- I've got too much to deal with in my life right now. Okay? Paul looks even more uncomfortable. PAUL I was thinking ... just, maybe we should talk some more? ROSE Paul, no. PAUL Rose -- Rose shoots him a look -- she's had enough. Paul sees it. PAUL Okay. The truth of the matter is, I know all we're going to be is great friends - - (can't help smiling) But right now, everybody in your whole building is up with your roommate putting together a surprise birthday party for you, and it's up to me to keep you away from there for the next two hours. Rose is completely shocked. She glances toward her apartment. ROSE Really? PAUL Uh-huh. Act surprised, okay? ROSE Okay ... (back at Paul) So, um ... pals, then? Paul regards her ... they smile. An understanding reached. PAUL Pals. For now. (off her look) And probably forever. But I just don't like saying 'never.' ROSE Okay. Deal. After all, no one knows their own destiny, right? CLOSE ON: The parchment PAGE of massive book. In beautiful illuminated script it reads: ____"After all, no one knows their own _____destiny, right?" Rose said. ____In Destiny's Garden, Destiny closed _____his book and went to his gallery. The huge tome is SHUT. It is chained to the wrist of -- DESTINY. Oldest of the Endless. Tall, wearing a hooded cassock. We are -- EXT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - TWILIGHT Destiny moves through his Garden at a measured pace, assuredly as a blind man in his own familiar home. Perhaps he is blind, as we do not see his eyes, hidden in shadow. The garden is all Greek columns, statues and sweeping archways. Paths that diverge and branch, fork and divide. Tall hedge mazes immaculately cut -- But Destiny knows his way, walking amid the sounds of silence. He leaves no footprints. And casts no shadow. INT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - CITADEL - TWILIGHT Destiny moves slowly, dwarfed by the high-ceilinged hallway. Beyond, chambers lead into many rooms and further chambers. He turns a corner, disappears into SHADOW -- INT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - CITADEL - GALLERY - TWILIGHT Six portraits hang on the wall, all painted in romantic style, all the subjects garbed in eighteenth-century fashion. Destiny stops in front of the first painting -- an ornately- framed oil portrait of Death, she in an elegant pose. Destiny speaks, his voice dry as dust: DESTINY Sister. I stand in my Gallery, and I summon the family to me. It is I, Destiny of the Endless, who calls you. (beat) Come. Death EMERGES from out of her portrait, into the hallway. She is her usual sunny self, casually dressed. DEATH Hiya, big brother. What's up? DESTINY I am calling a conclave of the Endless, Sister. Do you not feel you should be more appropriately attired? Death pouts ... then spins, and is suddenly wearing a turn- of-the-century satin dress, black leather boots, black silk gloves. The effect is at once wild and elegant. DEATH Satisfied? Destiny moves to the next portrait. He does not look at her. DESTINY Yes. I am satisfied. (to the portrait) Sibling, I stand in my Gallery, and I call you ... DESIRE steps out from the portrait. Perfectly symmetrical, perfectly androgynous features. Her (or his) skin is pale as smoke, his (or her) eyes tawny and sharp as yellow wine. Desire smiles in brief flashes, like moonlight glinting from a knife-edge. She (or he) is formally dressed: black corset, panties, garters and stockings. Desire looks around, taking the place in. DESIRE (to Dream) I see he hasn't redecorated in the last three hundred years. So what's the occasion? DESPAIR Destiny will tell us that in his own time, Desire. He won't be rushed ... DESPAIR emerges from her portrait, a heavy woman, naked, rolls of fat weighting her down. Grey eyes that narrow to tiny points. DESIRE I see you dressed for the occasion, Despair. DEATH Shush. Be nice. It's been years since the family was together. Destiny passes a conspicuous gap where another painting may have hung. The next portrait is of a young girl, smiling, holding flowers in a summer field. DESTINY Sister Delirium. Youngest of the Endless. I stand in my Gallery, and I call you -- DELIRIUM steps into the Gallery -- looking not all like her portrait. Orange hair, her fishnet stockings tattered. One eye is vivid emerald green, spattered with silver flecks that move; her other eye is vein blue. Who knows what Delirium sees through her mismatched eyes? DEATH Hi, sis. How are you doing? DELIRIUM uh. YesterDAY i did SomE really BAD stuff. I meaN REal bad. YOU know. (beat) but TOdAY i DiD some GOOD things. I don't knoW -- DESTINY Hush, little sister. There is one more to be summoned. At the end of the gallery is the portrait of Sandman, dressed in the finery of the 17th century. Destiny pauses in front of it -- INT. DESTINY'S GARDEN - CITADEL - MAIN HALL - TWILIGHT Sandman, dressed as he was painted, sits at a seven-sided table. The Endless gathered around. Destiny stands behind his chair. There is one extra chair, standing empty. DESTINY You know why I have called this family meeting. DESPAIR Brother Dream is back. (glances at the empty chair) I thought you had gone for good. DESIRE Abandoned his realm, abandoned his responsibilities ... SANDMAN I had no choice in the matter. DELIRIUM DesTiNY couLD hAVe Told yOu WHAT was ComINg. BUT he wouLdn't 'cAUse he's meAN. DESTINY I could not turn that page until it was time for the turning. But I can tell you what has occurred in your absence. DESIRE Oh, do. This could be fun. Sandman gestures for Destiny to continue. DESTINY The dreams of men became chaotic. One man's dream could infect thousands. Dreams of freedom, of subjugation, dreams of equality, dreams of death. Dark or light made no matter, if the dreamer strong enough. Delirium pays no attention. Bright butterflies emanate from her fingertips. DELIRIUM i juST made butter-flies. LOOK, everyBody! LOOk at whaT I just DiD ... DESTINY Brother Dream. You must decide. Will you repair your kingdom, and return to your throne? SANDMAN I am not sure that I am needed. Or that I wish to resume my mantle. Desire leans forward. DESIRE I could make you wish to. Sandman frowns. DESIRE (CONT'D) I am Desire, am I not? Where I touch, things want and need and love, drawn like butterflies to a candle-flame. DESPAIR You mean moths. Desire's smile widens. DESIRE Butterflies. One of Delirium's butterflies lands on a candle flame. It BURNS quickly, writhing, leaving only colored smoke. The image is at once repellent and beautiful. DELIRIUM thoSe Were MINE. you didn't HaVe to do thAT! DESPAIR We should not argue. We should not fight. Sandman looks across the table at Death. SANDMAN You have been quiet, sister. What say you? DEATH What say I? Well, I'll tell you. And I'm only going to say it once, so you'd better pay attention. She rises and comes around the table to him. He waits DEATH (CONT'D) You are utterly the stupidest, most self- centered, appallingest excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. She sits on the table beside him. DEATH (CONT'D) What we do aren't just responsibilities. These aren't just jobs. We didn't answer ads in the classifieds because we wanted the health care. Destiny, Desire, Death -- this is what we are. And you -- are Dream. Her stern attitude fades, and she takes his hand. DEATH (CONT'D) I'm glad you're back. I was worried about you. She kisses his cheek, then moves back to her chair. Sandman rubs his forehead ... decides. SANDMAN I will repair my kingdom. To do so I must recover my tools of power: Pouch, Helm, and Ruby. DESTINY (nods) The path is chosen, then. SANDMAN But I don't know where they are. Brother, could you ..? Destiny does not respond, but pulls his book closer. SANDMAN (CONT'D) No. Of course not. Sisters, can you be of any assistance? He's addressing Desire, Delirium and Despair, who are grouped together -- a tableau of Mother, Maiden and Crone. SANDMAN (CONT'D) My pouch of sand, which controls dreams. Do any of you have knowledge of it? DELIRIUM i kNow! I KNoW! TheRe's a WOman namED Rachel -- she haS IT! BuT I don'T KNoW where SHe is. NeiTHeR doeS ShE. Delirium shuts her mismatched eyes, furrows her brow. When she opens her eyes again, they are both BLUE. DELIRIUM (CONT'D) Rachel remembers another: Rose Walker. Perhaps she can lead you to your pouch. (rubs her temples) It hurts me to be this way. SANDMAN Then stop. Delirium's eyes shift back to one green, one blue. DELIRIUM DesTINy? I'm SORry. I didn't MEaN to calL you meAn. I mean, i meant to, bUt I dIdn't MEAN it whEN I meant To. DESTINY I know. Delirium smiles. SANDMAN My Dreamstone, my Ruby Moonstone, which can alter the fabric of reality. Where is it? Desire seems to enjoy answering. DESIRE A very desirable item, hm? Stolen from a king by a mage, stolen from a mage by a thief. And that's the last I know of it. (a knife's-edge smile) Sorry. Sandman scowls. Then turns to Despair. SANDMAN And my helm of office, which protects me between realms? DESPAIR It was traded to a demon long ago. It now abides in Hell. I am too familiar with that place. Sandman does not like this news. SANDMAN Thank you. He rises, leaves the table. EXT. DESTINY'S CITADEL - TWILIGHT Sandman stands on a balcony looking out over Destiny's garden. Death joins him. SANDMAN My ruby is missing. And I am not strong enough to face a single demon, let alone the hordes of hell. DEATH So ... the pouch? SANDMAN Yes. My sister, I pray you tell our siblings that I was needed elsewhere, and I could not stay. He kisses her hand, and starts to fade away. SANDMAN Adieu. He's gone. Death bites her lip. DEATH Great. Now I get to worry about him some more ... EXT. ALEXANDER'S YACHT - EVENING A 150-foot white yacht, sleek, huge engines, built for speed and show, a testament to ego rather than seaworthiness. Anchored far away from shore. Silent and dark, save for lights in the galley and a forward cabin. INT. ALEXANDER'S YACHT - GALLEY - EVENING Plush and elegant. Long center table, huge refrigerator. Quiet, cavernous and empty. A door opens -- It's ALEXANDER BURGESS. No longer the 'young' Burgess, he's in his fifties, now -- and looks older. Silk robe pajamas, unkempt hair, shuffling along, he is a shocking contrast to the opulence of his ship. CLOSE ON: a tray, as Alexander carefully places five celery sticks in line. Each celery stick is exactly the same length. INT. ALEXANDER' YACHT - CAPTAIN'S CABIN - EVENING Alexander pushes into the cabin, carrying the tray. A huge bed, marble and wood appointments -- this is a yacht Donald Trump might have owned. On the bed is the body of a muscular young man. Dead. ALEXANDER Carlos ..? CORINTHIAN Alexander Burgess, I presume. The Corinthian is standing to one side of the door. Alexander drops the tray, reaches into his robe, draws a gun from a holster at his side -- The Corinthian moves swiftly, a single blow -- Alexander crumples to the deck, and SCREEN FADES TO BLACK. INT. ALEXANDER'S YACHT - CAPTAIN'S CABIN - EVENING FADE UP: CLOSE ON ALEXANDER, lying where he fell. His eyes open -- slightly. He shifts his eyes only, glancing around. POV ALEXANDER -- he sees the Corinthian, moving about the cabin, searching. Photos on the walls show scenes from huge and decadent parties -- liquor, drugs, beautiful women, powerful men. The Corinthian looks at them, shakes his head. CORINTHIAN (to himself) Oh my, such decadence. He moves past, examines an empty wall. Lingers there. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) Dear Alexander ... you spent a lot of time here, didn't you? It stinks of worry ... He glances at a trail we can't see. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) You've worn a path. And stood here for long periods of time ... He reaches up -- a hidden switch behind a bookcase slides back a section of marble, revealing a safe. Without looking: CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) (to Alexander) Get up! You've been awake for the past two minutes. Your breathing betrays you. Alexander opens his eyes, struggles to sitting. He begins to weep -- not in terror, but in resignation. He wipes his eyes with both hands. ALEXANDER I knew ... it had to happen. CORINTHIAN Yes, well ... you shouldn't have written the book. Led me right to you. He flings a book off the shelf down in front of Alexander. 'LORD MAGUS: The Truths of Roderick Burgess' by Alexander Burgess. Alexander looks at it. ALEXANDER Stupid. But I had to ... to ... CORINTHIAN Pay penance? Set the record straight? Make a fortune off the movie sale? Alexander laughs mirthlessly. ALEXANDER Hardly. You're probably the only one whose ever read the damn thing. (beat) Want me to sign it? CORINTHIAN No. ALEXANDER The Ruby. CORINTHIAN Yes. Alexander stands, moves to the safe. ALEXANDER Is Carlos dead? CORINTHIAN Yes. Your lover? Alexander works the dial. ALEXANDER (shakes his head) Pilot and body guard. I haven't had much interest in lovers -- male or female -- in a long time. Although I had my share of both, once ... He pulls the safe open. It is empty, save for SANDMAN'S RUBY, set on a velvet pad. He takes it out. ALEXANDER (CONT'D) This gave them to me. It gave me everything I ever desired ... CORINTHIAN (mock tragic) Except the one thing you ever really wanted. Your father's love. Alexander makes a fist around the Ruby. Hurls it at the Corinthian -- who makes an effortless one-handed catch. He holds it up to the light, then pockets it. Draws his knife. ALEXANDER You're going to kill me now? CORINTHIAN I believe so. ALEXANDER With a knife. How prosaic. (a bitter laugh) I bought the yacht for safety. Open water, supposed to guard against magic attack. CORINTHIAN Your father was right, Alexander. You are an idiot. Alexander winces. The Corinthian moves to Carlos' body, turns the corpse's head. He works his knife as he speaks. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) You had the Ruby Moonstone of the King of Dreams. Reality itself in your sway. And all you could do was feed your callow little hungers. He holds up his prize: AN EYEBALL. He lifts it to his face - - we think he may eat it. With his free hand, he reaches up to remove his sunglasses -- CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) Not that I take issue with indulging pleasures ... Alexander gasps at what is revealed behind the Corinthian's sunglasses. CLOSE ON: THE CORINTHIAN'S MOUTH. He brings the eyeball closer -- -- and past, up, out of frame. EVEN AS HE SPEAKS (CLEARLY), WE HEAR THE SOUNDS OF CHEWING -- CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) But you never understood how to truly use the Stone. You had the power to change the whole world. And you wasted it. Alexander is stricken. His knees buckle. He slumps to the floor. And then we see what he has seen: The Corinthian's eye sockets DO NOT HAVE EYES -- instead, they are both MOUTHS, filled with SHARP TEETH. When he speaks, all three of his mouths speak -- three voices, overdubbed. CORINTHIAN (CONT'D) But that's pretty much true of all you mortals, isn't it? He brings his bloody knife up, and advances. ALEXANDER Who are you? CORINTHIAN (melodramatic) I'm your worst nightmare. I'm -- (shrugs, smiles) That's it. Your worst nightmare. He LAUGHS -- CUT TO: EXT. OCEAN - EVENING The Corinthian, sunglasses back on, pilots the yacht's launch across the bay. He takes the Ruby from his pocket, holds it up, looking through it at the city. POV - THROUGH THE RUBY. Everything is tinted red. And as the Corinthian turns the Ruby, its facets distort the city, distort reality ... CLOSE ON - A DOZEN smiling PARTY-GOERS as they yell -- PARTY-GOERS SURPRISE! Rose's eyes widen, and she looks appropriately surprised; we are -- INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT A banner reads 'Happy Birthday, Rose.' The party-goers, mostly tenants, crowd forward. A cake with one big candle on it is proffered; Rose blows it out, pushes through, Paul behind her. Among the guests are: KELLY, a chubby young woman with a good heart; SAMANTHA, who smokes too many French cigarettes. KELLY Were you surprised? ROSE (a la Roz Russell) I'm a cynical old woman now. Nothin' surprises me. Samantha holds up a little white KITTEN. ROSE (a mercurial change) Oh -- oh, look at it! Is it mine? SAMANTHA Happy birthday, Rose. Rose takes the Kitten, pets it, coos to it. SAMANTHA (CONT'D) I thought you needed something in your life cute and warm and fuzzy and demanding, and I didn't know any men, so ... KELLY I wasn't sure you'd like it -- ROSE No, no ... it's perfect. Purr-fect. I love it. KELLY She needs a name. ROSE It's a she? That's easy. Her name's 'Dinah.' She moves away, kitten clinging to her shoulder. KELLY Dinah? SAMANTHA Oh -- like in Alice in Wonderland. You know Rose ... Other partygoers wish Rose happy birthday, pet the kitty. Rose smiles to everyone, thanking them, moving through the crowd -- INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - LATER Tired, Rose collapses into a chair. The kitten burrows behind her neck. Someone offers a glass of wine -- Paul. Rose takes it from him. Smiles. ROSE So ... can I at least imagine I inspired you and you were able to get back to work? PAUL I wish. No, still blocked. I haven't painted in ... months, is it months? Shit. And you know about the sleep trouble. I've been having this weird dream ... Kelly, questing for snacks, overhears this last. KELLY A weird dream? You gotta tell Sam ... she's a nut for this stuff. Sam, come here! (Sam joins them) He's going to tell us a dream. SAMANTHA Ragin'. So tell. Paul hesitates -- it really wasn't for everybody to hear, but now he's on the spot. PAUL I dreamt I was climbing a rock face, this sheer, like, spire --and I hate to climb. I hate high places in general. I'm an artist, and I don't even open my windows to look at the view -- KELLY The dream ..? PAUL Right. So I'm climbing, and I've reached the top. EXT. DREAM REALM - ROCKY SPIRE - DAY It's Paul's dream: A finger of stone pushes its way into a pale blue sky. At the pinnacle, Paul maintains a perilous hold, his face white with terror. PAUL (CONT'D)(V.O.) I can't go higher. I can't climb all the way back down. And I can't let go. I can't fall. INT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Remembering, Paul speaks nervously -- he's genuinely troubled. PAUL (CONT'D) I just can't. Because if you fall in a dream, and you hit the ground -- you die. Right? KELLY I think that's just an old wives' tale. SAMANTHA I tend to trust old wives. PAUL So ... ah ... I figure it's about being blocked. Right? SAMANTHA It sounds like an anxiety dream. KELLY It always sounds like an anxiety dream to you. Unless its a sex dream. ROSE What if you dream about being anxious about sex? KELLY Is that what you dream about? Rose is suddenly uncomfortable. ROSE I don't dream. Never have. SAMANTHA You mean you don't remember. Rose takes a drink, looks away, and spots -- SANDMAN. Wearing a plain leather jacket, giving the party a detached once-over. The guests flow around him, seemingly unaware of his presence. SAMANTHA (O.S.) (to Paul) So this spire ... basically long, and phallic? And you're clinging to it, huh? Curious, Rose moves toward Sandman -- almost drawn to him. PAUL (O.S.) Whoa, wait a second -- Rose gazes speculatively at Sandman. She scoops up a Chinese fortune cookie from a snack bowl. Steps forward, startling him. ROSE Hi. So are you being lonely or just aloof? Sandman glances around for the person she is addressing -- then realizes it must be him. SANDMAN You noticed me? ROSE Yeah ... it wasn't hard. I looked behind the philodendron, and there you were. SANDMAN I am not usually noticed unless I wish to be. Rose quickly realizes he's a weirdo, decides to bail. ROSE (turning away) Ah ... okay, Ninja-boy. Well, have fun lurking. Sandman catches her arm. SANDMAN Wait. I require your assistance. ROSE My assistance ..? SANDMAN I am searching for a possession of mine. A leather pouch, full of sand. Rose looks afraid. She knows what he's talking about, but wishes she didn't. ROSE A pouch ..? SANDMAN A woman named Rachel stole it. I want it back. ROSE Then go get it. And leave me the hell alone. She pulls away from him. She crosses to a window, and climbs out, onto the fire escape. EXT. ROSE'S APARTMENT - FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT Rose nuzzles the kitten. A beat, and then Sandman moves to beside her -- although he did not seem to come out the window. SANDMAN My sister did not know the woman's location, nor am I able to sense the pouch. Do you know where she is? Rose's words spill out, the venom unmistakable: ROSE Rachel ... is my mother. My mother the junkie. She was stoned when I was conceived, she was stoned when I was born, she was stoned ... she is always stoned. The state finally took me away. I hear from her once in a while -- when she remembers she maybe had a kid somewhere. (a bitter laugh) Happy birthday. SANDMAN Then you do know where she is. ROSE I know where she was a year ago. SANDMAN Take me to her. I will grant you a boon. Rose stares at him -- this is absurd. ROSE A boon? SANDMAN Yes. ROSE Like a gift? Like in a fairy tale? That kind of boon? SANDMAN Yes. I am Dream, of the Endless. I am the Master of Dreams. If it is within my power, you shall have it. Rose's expression is one of surprise -- but not quite disbelief. SANDMAN (CONT'D) And ... I need your help. Rose is skeptical -- but she is considering it. SANDMAN (CONT'D) (a single, desperate syllable) Please. Rose softens -- he is in genuine need. ROSE This is too weird. My mother ... She looks down at the fortune cookie in her hand. Looks up at Sandman, into his eyes. They gaze at each other a moment, and something passes between them. Understanding. Trust. Rose's mouth curls in a sly smile. Cracks the fortune cookie, extracts the fortune. Reads it. Shakes her head. ROSE (CONT'D) (reading the fortune) 'Be open to new experiences.' She looks again at Sandman. Sighs. ROSE (CONT'D) All right. We really don't get to choose these things, do we? I'll take you there. Sandman nods gratefully. ROSE (CONT'D) But that doesn't mean I believe you. What a line. The Master of Dreams. Yeah, right. EXT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - NIGHT A very bad neighborhood. A taxi screeches away from the curb. Sandman stands on the sidewalk, Rose beside him. The house is one step above condemned. Tall brown weeds and broken windows, flaking paint and decaying siding. SANDMAN The pouch is here. ROSE How do you know? SANDMAN I know. Rose steps up to the house, rings the bell. Checks the front door. Locked. ROSE We can go around back and break a window or something -- SANDMAN No. We go in by the front door. Sandman gestures. A CLICK is heard, and the door opens slightly. Rose looks at Sandman in astonishment. ROSE Don't tell me you did that. That was chance, right? Because if you did that ... Sandman gestures for her to enter. She pushes the door -- INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - FOYER - NIGHT The door moves open slowly, pushing a large pile of mail before it -- magazines, letters, bills. Rose enters, frowns. ROSE Six months worth of mail ... (calling, panicked) Ohmigod. Rachel? MOTHER? She moves toward a stairway. Sandman stops her. SANDMAN Rose. This place is not safe for you. Things are free in this house that should not be loose on earth. She stares at him blankly, not really hearing him. She pulls away -- ROSE Don't give me any more of that crap. She might be in trouble. -- and is off, up the stairs. INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - - TOP OF STAIRS - NIGHT Rose slows her ascent. Before her, white CLOUDS obscure the second floor, tendrils of MIST curling down the stairway. Resolved, she steps into the mist. Looks down -- VERTIGO hits us as the clouds part. Below Rose is open sky, the city thousands of feet below. Rose FALLS -- EXT. SKY - NIGHT The WHITE NOISE sound of WIND as Rose free-falls, plummeting toward earth. Arms and legs spread, she watches, wide-eyed as the ground approaches. She SCREAMS -- EXT. DELIRIUM'S REALM - INDETERMINATE THE SCREEN CRACKS LIKE A MIRROR. Pieces of it fall away. Rose stands on a misty plane. Color, sound, creatures and words whirl around her violently. This is DELIRIUM'S REALM. Delirium looks up at Rose. DELIRIUM HavE yOu COme to viSIT my ReaLM? GoodGooDGooDie. I Like comPAnY ... i LikE to be ALoNE, too. but NOt bY MYseLf. Sandman's hand touches Rose's shoulder. He stands beside her. SANDMAN Sister ... she is not yours. DELIRIUM BRother! nOW we cAn aLL bE aLONe ThrEE at A tiMe! SANDMAN No, little one. Not now. Delirium makes a face. Blows a lock of hair out of her face. DELIRIUM Um. OkaY. INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - TOP OF STAIRS - NIGHT The clouds, mist, and realm are gone. Sandman stands behind Rose, close to her, holding her. SANDMAN Rose. You're here. Rose, shaking, hangs onto Sandman. Takes in her surroundings. ROSE Uh. ... so real. I thought I saw ... You were there. A dream -- like Paul's. It was only a dream. SANDMAN It is never 'only a dream,' Rose. Here less than some other places. He pushes open a door. The hallway beyond is black. SANDMAN (CONT'D) Follow, if you must. (offhand) Be careful. Stay away from the mouths. ROSE What do you mean stay away from the -- ? But he has already entered the hallway. She follows -- INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT The scrape-whoosh of a cigarette lighter. Rose holds the flame aloft, gasps -- The flame lights a hellish scene: The walls are not smooth. DOZENS of grotesque, blood red FACES bulge from the walls and ceiling. Thin tentacle arms reach out, hands gripping hands from the other side, blocking their path. The faces SNEER, several speaking at once: FACES Leave her. Do not disturb. She is ours. We from hungry. Do not disturb us. Rose shrinks back, looks around wildly. ROSE Where is she? Mother! The faces gnash teeth, lick drooling lips. They flow along the wall, some fading back, others pushing forward. FACES Foolish foolish. Hear it posture? Hear it threaten? Foolish meat things. SANDMAN Let us through. Sandman's voice has instant effect. Some faces look surprised; others glance around warily. FACES Who said? Who spoke? Not him. He's gone. All gone long gone. SANDMAN This has gone far enough. You have exceeded your bounds. The faces are already pulling back into the walls. Eyes lowered, contrite. A few are even scared. FACES Master? Do not chastise. Sorry sorry. We thought you long gone. Yes yes Master. Sandman moves down the hall, the arms untangling before him. A disgusting meaty wet PLOP sound as the arms pull back into the walls. Rose stares as the hallway becomes smooth, normal. ROSE Dreams, right? Those were dreams. And you really are their Master. SANDMAN Yes. ROSE Did you send them? Are you responsible for this? SANDMAN No. Sandman pushes open the door at the end of the hall. INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - RACHEL'S BEDROOM - NIGHT Dimly lit. The SOUND of buzzing FLIES. Rachel's naked body lies sprawled, partially covered by a sheet, her appearance a shock: her skin is shriveled and decayed, several months beyond death. Her eyes are open, unseeing. Rose moves forward, recoils at the sight of her mother. She drops to one knee, sobbing at the foot of the bed. CLOSE ON: Rachel, as her eyes flutter. RACHEL (a whisper) Hello? Rose's eyes widen. ROSE Oh no she's alive. RACHEL Who's there? Oh! (a ghastly smile) I dreamt I had a daughter, once. Such a wonderful dream ... Rachel sits up. The sheet falls away from her shoulders. We wish it hadn't. RACHEL (CONT'D) Dream dream dreeeeam ... Whenever I want to ... all I have to do is dreeeeeam ... The Pouch of sand lies on a night stand. Sandman picks it up. Squeezes it tight in his fist. He has reclaimed his first tool. RACHEL (CONT'D) No that's mine. Mine. Gimme ... Rachel lurches for the pouch -- Sandman simply takes a step back. She collapses face-first on the bed. SANDMAN (to Rose) I have the pouch. We can go now. Rose stares at him in disbelief. ROSE No. You can't just take what you wanted and go. You can't leave her like this. Sandman regards Rachel, who writhes in the bed, humming, a dry, croaking sound. SANDMAN Why not? The sand was the only thing keeping her alive. She will die soon. (an afterthought) Painfully, I would imagine. He moves to the bedroom door. Rose stands. ROSE I request my boon. Sandman pauses. ROSE For helping you. The boon you promised. Sandman turns, eyes her -- an almost menacing look. SANDMAN Yes? ROSE Give her a ... merciful release from this. Please. You can do that, can't you? Sandman is surprised. His look softens. He reassesses her. SANDMAN You could choose anything in the world. And you choose to help her. Her, of all people. (beat) I am ... impressed, Rose. She meets his gaze. Again, that connection between them. He nods. SANDMAN (CONT'D) I will grant your desire, Rose. You must leave the room. Rose closes her eyes. Opens them, looks on her mother one last time. Turns, moves past Sandman, directly out the bedroom door. CLOSE ON: Sandman's hand, as he sprinkles dream sand from his fingers. It falls -- -- turning into PETALS that land on Rachel's forehead. She is somehow young and healthy, now, lying back on green grass. More petals land. Rachel opens her eyes, smiles. We are: EXT. DREAM REALM - GREEN HILLSIDE - DAY The sun is shining. A young girl -- it must be Rose, as a child -- GIGGLES as she drops petals onto her sleeping mother. Rachel stands, alive and healthy. She laughs, starts to spin, arms flung outward. Rose spins with her, twirling - - INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT Rachel lies on the sheets, dead. Sandman pulls the covers up over her eyes. Pauses. Suddenly Death leans into frame. She smiles sympathetically, whispers into Sandman's ear: DEATH That was a lovely final dream you gave her, little brother. She leans out. There is the soft fluttering SOUND of WINGS. Then silence. Sandman is alone. INT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - HALLWAY - NIGHT Rose waits. The bedroom door opens, and Sandman is there. SANDMAN She died peacefully. She died happy. ROSE (flat) Yeah. Great. Thanks. Sandman backs away from her. Rose sighs, looks up at him -- The hallway is empty. Sandman is gone. EXT. RACHEL'S HOUSE - NIGHT Police cars and an ambulance crowd the street in front of Rachel's house. The ambulance (presumably with Rachel's body) pulls away. Bystanders stand behind police tape. Rose sits in the back of a taxi. She gazes up at the house, lost in thought. ROSE (to herself) ... Mister Sandman, bring me a dream ... make him the cutest ... that I've ever seen ... The taxi pulls forward, moves down the street. INT. JEWELRY SHOP - BACK ROOM - NIGHT Several piles of GLITTERING cut DIAMONDS are strewn on a workbench. They sparkle in the glow of the overhead light. A hulking FAT MAN lays out jeweler's tools on a blue velvet cloth. Babyish face, his hands seem dainty and too-small for his huge arms, his features tiny, lost in the mounds of fat. He calls himself FUNLAND. There is a RAP on the metal side door. Funland moves quickly, expectantly. Pulls the door open. The Corinthian stands in the doorway. Extends his hand. CORINTHIAN Funland, isn't it? Hi. The Corinthian. We met online. FUNLAND (shakes his hand) Right ... wow, I can't believe it's actually you ... wow. I thought you'd be older -- CORINTHIAN My compliments to you on your BBS. Well done. (looks beyond him) So we're all set, then? The tools? FUNLAND Yeah. I, uh, got your e-mail -- INT. JEWELRY SHOP - BACK ROOM - NIGHT The Corinthian sits at the workbench. Sandman's RUBY is in a small vice; the Corinthian peers at it through a magnifying light, measuring the stone. Funland eats a whole Twinkie, washes it down with a swig of Jolt Cola. He looks over the Corinthian's shoulder. Trying to act nonchalant. FUNLAND (a little proud) You know, I've got my own little thing going. CORINTHIAN (amused) Oh? FUNLAND I've found my own special place. There's, like, thousands of people. And there are always beautiful little children wandering off, getting lost. Always pleased to see somebody friendly. The Corinthian murmurs as he makes an adjustment at the bench. He pulls out a page torn from a book, consults it. FUNLAND (CONT'D) And quiet places to take them to, even in the middle of the crowds. And what's great is, the people who run the place always hush it up. They don't want anyone to know that I'm there either. They want everybody to be happy. Just like me. The Corinthian CUTS, fashioning the gem into a NEW SHAPE. FUNLAND (CONT'D) (dreamy) It's a wonderful place, my secret, special place. And the other thing I love, if you can't find any beautiful children to play with, you can always go on one of the rides. CORINTHIAN (without looking up) How very pleasant. FUNLAND Yeah. I can't tell anyone else where it is, because, y'know, they'd all want to go there. The Corinthian lifts the Ruby, examines it. Puts it back. CORINTHIAN I'd like to make use of your mailing list, Funland. There's going to be a gathering of collectors. FUNLAND -- really? Uh, sure. Funland moves to an old Mac Plus computer on the bench, hunches in front of it. CORINTHIAN Nimrod is organizing it. Send him the addresses you have. And I have some names to add: Family Man. Carrion. Moon River. Dog Soup. Candy Man. Bright SHARDS of ruby chip off as the Corinthian works, hit the table, the floor -- and flatten into drops of BLOOD. FUNLAND (amazed) Dog Soup and Candy Man? Oh, man. Oh, wow ... this'll be great ... Funland's fingers dance over the keyboard. A bloody shard flies out from the Ruby, hits Funland on the cheek. He touches it. Looks at his finger. FUNLAND (CONT'D) Hey, that's ... that's ... CORINTHIAN (helpful) Blood. Yes. Funland stares at his finger, the blood drops coming from the ruby. Quickly turns away, back to the keyboard. The Corinthian laughs, keeps working ... INT. DREAM REALM - LUCIEN'S LIBRARY - DUSK Lucien sifts through piles of fallen books, carefully placing them in order back onto the shelves. A PUMPKINHEAD MAN silently assists him. Matthew flutters in, perches on a stack of books. MATTHEW So, the library's open again. LUCIEN Yes. Lord Dream was good enough to restore it before ... before he continued with his tasks. MATTHEW So he's gone to hell, huh? To get his helm? LUCIEN Yes. Matthew shudders. He glances around. MATTHEW I never got into the whole book thing. LUCIEN Oh, but it's a very unusual library, Matthew. (with pride) Somewhere in here is every story that has ever been dreamed. MATTHEW Yeah? Say, watch this. (sticks his beak into Lucien's face) NEVERMORE! Good, huh? LUCIEN Hmn. The complete Poe is in the southern annex. Including stories he never wrote, or never finished, except in dreams -- MATTHEW C'mon! I was doing Peter Lorre in that Roger Corman movie -- (he cocks his head) Hey, Lucien. Is that big black thing supposed to be there? LUCIEN What? He looks where Matthew is looking -- In one wall is a large hole. Nothing beyond but blackness. Even as they watch, the hole enlarges, shelves and books DISSOLVING as the widening edge touches them. LUCIEN Oh, dear! Matthew flutters backwards, away from the black hole. Lucien reaches forward, pulls volumes off the shelf nearest the hole, saving them from obliteration. MATTHEW Does this mean ... the boss isn't doing so well in Hell? LUCIEN No -- it's a Dream Vortex. MATTHEW Uh, oh. That's bad. That's very bad. (beat) What's a Dream Vortex? Lucien's arms are stacked with books by now. He adds more as others fall, backing away from the hole. LUCIEN Something that can destroy the entire Dreaming ... the Waking World ... even Lord Dream himself. MATTHEW Sheesh ... when it rains, it pours. Lucien and Matthew retreat across the room, through a door - - INT. DREAM REALM - LIBRARY - HALLWAY A SLAM! as the door shuts. Lucien's books fall to the floor as he leans with his back to the door, as if trying to keep the Vortex locked inside. LUCIEN The Master must be informed as soon as he returns. MATTHEW If he returns. LUCIEN Matthew ... sometimes you can be very infuriating. (beat; quietly) If he returns ... EXT. DREAM REALM - GATES OF HORN AND IVORY - NIGHT Sandman stands outside the gates. A gesture, and an ancient wooden pier grows from nowhere. It rests on rough-hewn pylons, floating in a sea of stars. Sandman now stands at the edge of the pier, looking down. He steps off the edge, drops-- EXT. GATES OF HELL - DAY Sandman falls, lands on a barren landscape. Before him is Hell. The Walls of Hell are constructed of human bodies, piled up to the sky. Dead bodies, we presume, until here an eye opens, there a chest heaves in sigh. The Gates of Hell are wrought-iron-style ornate, intricate, glorious -- but fashioned of living bodies, horribly distended. Near the Gates a severed HEAD has been impaled on a spike. The head twists toward Sandman, grins. HEAD ON SPIKE Ah! There is one at the door! (rhyming) There's one at the door, at the gates of Damnation. Is it thief, thug or whore? SANDMAN Greetings. I wish to talk to your master. Immediately. HEAD ON SPIKE There's one at the door, and there's room for one more, 'till the end of creation! SANDMAN I am the King of Dreams, of the Nightmare Realms. I seek Lord Lucifer, the Lord of Hell. HEAD ON SPIKE (taunting) Oh, yes, my clown. So where's your crown? Where's you're ruby? Sandman unexpectedly lashes out with his fist, slugging the head. It spins on its spike -- a comic image if it weren't so grotesque. SANDMAN I will take no insults from you, little demon. The Head grins through bloody lips. HEAD ON SPIKE Squatterbloat! A minor demon -- SQUATTERBLOAT -- pushes open the Gates of Hell. The demon is hunched over, with no mouth; one of its arms ends in the shape of a sharp battle-ax. HEAD ON SPIKE Take the Dreamclown. Guard him and guide him, he's new in town. Squatterbloat nods. Steps back, lifts the battle-ax arm, indicating the way. Sandman moves through the gates -- EXT. HELL - WOOD OF SUICIDES - DAY Sandman follows behind Squatterbloat, takes in Hell as it flows past. They move through a forest of thin, sickly- looking trees. SANDMAN The wood of suicides has changed since my last visit. I remember it as a tiny grove. Now it is a forest. Squatterbloat remains silent, continues on ... EXT. HELL - CLIFFS OF TARTARUS - DAY Sandman is led past a row of barred caves. He brushes past hands that clutch at him. Anguished voices cry out. Sandman tilts his head, hearing something. He raises a hand. SANDMAN Wait. The demon Squatterbloat pauses. Sandman peers through the bars into one of the caves -- Inside, Roderick Burgess is chained to a wall, his own arms wrapped several times around his body, forming a flesh straight jacket. He confides to a fellow prisoner, similarly constrained. BURGESS (boasting) I put my curse on a man and he was dead. I captured Dream! Oh, I was the most wicked man to ever live -- SANDMAN Roderick Burgess. Burgess looks out, recognizes Sandman. He is stricken. BURGESS You! SANDMAN You call yourself wicked, without knowing what that means. You dream you are the equal of the demons around you. Burgess's mouth drops open, but he has no words. SANDMAN (CONT'D) Burgess, for your deeds against me, this is my judgment on you. (beat) You shall know who you truly are. I take away your dream. Burgess frowns. BURGESS Special? Of course! I'm Roderick Burgess! I'm the ... (falters) That is, I'm the ... uh ... I'm ... just ... (beat) uh, me. His eyes widen. He takes in his surroundings, as if noting his situation for the first time. BURGESS (CONT'D) Oh, no. Outside, Sandman gestures to move on. Squatterbloat leads the way. From behind them come Burgess's screams -- BURGESS (CONT'D)(O.S.) Oh God no. Help, somebody help me -- EXT. HELL - STAIRS OF BLOOD - DAY Squatterbloat stops at the foot of a stairway. Blood flows down the steps. Sandman glances up, climbs -- EXT. HELL - LUCIFER'S THRONE - DAY At the summit, the steps end at a high parapet, at Lucifer's throne. Made of flesh, the throne bleeds, source of the flowing blood. Lucifer leans casually against a railing. He is blond, lean, youthful, a handsome rock star lounging in the shadow of his own enormous black wings. SANDMAN Greetings to you, Lucifer Morningstar. Lucifer looks Sandman up and down. LUCIFER Hello, Dream. We heard you were caught by mortals, like a newly-fledged demon. We expected better of you. Sandman does not comment. Lucifer hops up on the balcony, leans forward expectantly, chin on the back of his hand. LUCIFER (CONT'D) Have you come to ally your realm to ours? To acknowledge the sovereignty of Hell? SANDMAN You know my views on that, Lightbringer. LUCIFER Yes, we do. Still this is no social call. What do you want? SANDMAN My helm was stolen from me. I believe one of your demons has it. I would like it back. (beat) Now. Lucifer is amused. He arranges his dark wings about him. LUCIFER Which demon? There are more than a million demons, after all. SANDMAN I do not know the demon's name. CLOSE ON: Lucifer, as his eyes narrow. His tone changes -- this is serious business. LUCIFER Then let us summon all of them to tell, and meet them on the Vasty plains of Hell! PULL BACK: from Lucifer's eyes. He and Sandman have not moved, but everything around them has changed. The parapet is crowded with demons, claws scraping, eyes glinting -- CONTINUE PULLING BACK: the stairway is covered with demons of all types and sizes. Some are insects. Others look like reptiles. Some wear their guts outside their skins -- CONTINUE PULLING BACK: More and more demons, crawling over each other, biting, fighting -- All of the demons of Hell. Lucifer and Sandman are tiny dots, standing on a distant mesa. LUCIFER (CONT'D) There. Now, Dream King. Tell us ... which demon has your helm? Sandman scans the multitude. He reaches into his Pouch, pulls out a handful of sand. Releases it -- A LINE of DREAM SAND streaks into the demons. It shoots this way and that, searching, creatures flying past in a blur -- Finally the sand SWIRLS, settles on: CHORONZON, a blood-red demon, fashionably dressed. He looks surprised. LUCIFER (CONT'D) Choronzon, a Duke of Hell. (to the demon) Well? Does Dream speak truly? Do you indeed have his mask of office? Choronzon has two mouths on his face, one above the other. As one speaks, the other smirks. CHORONZON Yes, Lord. SANDMAN Return it to me. Now. Both of Choronzon's mouths smile, a double dose of insolent grin. CHORONZON Ssss. I traded for it from a mortal. A fair trade. (bold) I broke none of the laws of Hell. If you want your precious back then you must fight me for it. Ssss. Demons HOWL and JEER at the challenge. Lucifer is amused. Dream regards the utterly confident Choronzon. SANDMAN Very well. I challenge you, Choronzon. We shall play the most ancient game. CHORONZON Sss. Sso. As the challenged, I choose the battlefield. (beat) I assert ... Reality. INT. THE HELLFIRE CLUB - NIGHT A dingy nightclub. Demons sit at small tables placed too close together, near a dingy stage. Lucifer watches from a seat in the shadows, not touching the drink in front of him. The lighting is hellish, of course. Choronzon is our host. He wears a tuxedo and dark glasses, speaks glibly into the mic: CHORONZON Sss. Welcome, ladies 'n' gennelmen, to another thrill packed evening of funfunfun here at the Hellfire Club. APPLAUSE from the assembled demons. A female demon -- a voluptuous body and the head of a horse -- snorts and stomps her hooves. CHORONZON (CONT'D) I am your host, Choronzon, High Duke of the Eighth Circle. Tonight, for your entertainment, a formal challenge. Let's have a big hand for Mister Sandman! A BLINDING SPOTLIGHT hits Sandman, standing center stage. Scattered APPLAUSE from the demons, amid mostly BOOS. Choronzon moves opposite to Sandman. CHORONZON (CONT'D) (deadly serious) You know the rules, Dreamlord? Win, and you get your helm. Lose, and you serve as a ssslave of Hell, for eternity. Sandman stares into Choronzon's eyes. SANDMAN I