exploring the wasteland of ones minds eye, you find that it's just as baren and coarse as your own, but otherwise not at all liken'd to it. delving into their dreamscape, you see the fucked up tundra of their recease-playground, where they spend time to unwind and explore before going back to working for other forces and powers without really knowing why, nor knowing a more productive alternative, nor knowing if being productive, a subjective term in itself, is better or worse than NOT being productive. And your own dream-time playground shows you the same oppertunities, inyour own twisted realiziation of it. and you go on to live and wonder the same things as they; though otherwise, not likened to them in the least.