We said this was a magician's bar.

Mr. Gray.

What you do is not magic.

I understand.

It's natural for a dying leaf to be frightened by the autumn wind.

It's not about pulling a rabbit out of your head anymore.

It's about pulling your heart out of your chest.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

It means I take people's nightmares

and turn them into dream realities.

All right.

It's Saturday night.

I have no date, a two-liter bottle of shasta,

and my all-rush mix tape.

Let's rock.

After everything that's happened recently,

I want to make sure that what you're about to do

isn't not well thought out.

When you die, you'll go to heaven,

you say hello to God,

and when God says hello to you,

this is what you'll smell on your breath.

...