It has already been several nights since David Lynch, blew the roof off of expectations, yet I continue to sift deep into the very back of my mind as to what else was delivered through some of his purest instincts, and Frost's layering of story foundation. Without much dialogue, so much was allowed to at last spill out after what has seemed a lifetime of anticipation. It's no exaggeration to say that much of Sunday night's hour, i have been waiting to experience since early summer 1991.

So, upon watching this again moments after writing about it, the details begin to paint one interesting tapestry of story expansion. Starting with the reunion of Evil Coop, and Ray, which blindsided me long enough to realize how this was going to end. At the side of a dirt road, and with a double cross. Ray, believing he had the drop, scampering understandably from a horrific and bizarre scene. What's more, is that he notifies Phillip Jeffries(David Bowie, in FWWM), that the deed was done, yet he anticipates a possible form of retaliation. Saying he witnessed something that may explain some gaps in their story about this otherworldly Cooper. Meaning, that for the longest time, the presence of the unknown has been at the edge of the lips of a select few, and that at last, even for them, things are coming together. As to how deep this goes, and what the Bureau, actually knows remains to be seen. 

Evil Coop's seeming resurrection, even seems like a foregone conclusion. There's no way we could eradicate evil with a simple volley of bullets. The scene much more about exposing these existential elements to the human world, makes it am exciting hint that everything that happens after, will be crucial not only to the entire Twin Peaks mythology, but to our heroes at last seeking ways to contain this invasion decades in the making. Which makes the rest of the segment not unlike a nonlinear novel of pure, Kafkaesque dread. Taking us back to the moment when our culture not only found itself out of the seeming endless moral more of conflict, with a deceptively simple technological solution. A solution that not only provided a sudden ending to war, but ushered an era of imagined prosperity for all, without ever considering the spiritual cost. In Lynch's vision , such imagery of uniformity beneath a justification of white bread Americana as a beacon for the just and fair, often brings with it hidden suffering and inevitably a bubbling underworld, just waiting to consume all innocence. If one thinks of it as a less crass, and more melancholic take on the Nightmare On Elm Street themes of the "sins of the parents", it all comes into sharper focus. 

It has long been an ongoing theme with his works. Only now, does it take on a grander scope than ever before. 

1945. White Sands, NM

Impact. Fury. Trinity.  

From the vomiting maw of what resembled the creature from the glass box. Contents liquescent, viscous, containing what appears to be Bob, himself. This along with the appearance of the soot beings corralling around perhaps the one and only Convenience Store. The one Jeffries, once spoke of before vanishing before Cole, Cooper, and Albert days before the murder of Laura. Sound magnified, stretched, and helplessly warped as the fabric of reality is torn open just long enough for evil to amass in ways unprecedented (Or perhaps flared beyond the days of slavery, and the mass slaughter of native peoples.) . And entire moment granting viewers the chance to at last absorb the truth beyond a simple, and all too familiar infodump.

Continuing this method, we are brought into a familiar art deco-esque tower overlooking vast oceans. (The White Lodge?) Where we are granted a crucial moment with the Giant, and "The Mother", as they are both alerted to the events unfolding on Earth. Possible that their roles in the overall scheme of the planet, are those of virtue, innocence, and light. Their world, adorned with lavish early 20th century design, coupled with the power of mythical machines resembling woodwinds. Music, the power of light. Sphere. Laura, in origin form. Kissed, and sent out into a now gravely troubled planet. Parents, bringing a child into it in hopes of inspiring humanity to rise beyond an impending abyss.

On to a decade later, and a lone egg the size of a small mammal lands deep in the desert. It isn't long before the egg is hatched, revealing what seems to be borne out of Lynch's own personal memories; what he has called a frog moth. Unable to fly, the creature in an infant stage awkwardly crawls toward an unknown future. Bringing us to a young pair, walking along a lone series of dirt roads after a night's meeting. Clearly a first for these children, it becomes an ache in my side to want to declare one of these children a young version of someone we know good and well from Twin Peaks. Only, no name is dropped, even as they bid their goodnights as the young girl waves from her family porch. I'm almost positive, I was far from the only one thinking, "Say Leland, please", but oh that would be too pat. As of tonight, a big guess persists, but wait for it. 

Meanwhile, the arrival of the soot men has become something akin to a zombie invasion just outside town limits, leaving several witnesses petrified of what shambles along in the dark. No mere vagrants, these ash covered beings may not move very fast, but one lanky fellow among them dubbed, "The Woodsman", comes ever forward to the unsuspecting with the simple words, "Gotta light?" A seemingly innocuous question that quickly gathers menace with each iteration. The terror only magnifies when The Woodsman takes over the local radio station, ending in several deaths by bare hands, and the broadcast of his passage regarding the water and the well. Shrouded creatures with a message of a most dangerous slumber. As to whether or not this was to facilitate the frog moth's entry into the sleeping young girl's mouth, remains to be seen. But what if the race between light and shadow merely appeared in town simultaneously a decade after their respective appearances? What if the frog moth, is no mere invader, but rather the protector? 

And by that logic, would this make the young girl a teenage Sarah Palmer? Which would go to great lengths to explain one of the mythos' great questions; what kind of link does Sarah have with the Black Lodge, and in turn, Bob? It was something that occurred more than a few times in the original series, but hardly addressed. This could be it. Laura, being something of an ephemeral being, brought to our world via forces beyond our understanding, while in itself something more akin to your classic hero myths than of other genre, offers up an even more unusual canvas than has ever been hinted at. Then again, this is the same show where we witnessed the leaving of a child's soul towards electricity- the vessel of choice for many of these interdimensional beings.

Technology, for all its abilities to save us from the darkness, offers up its own world of toil and danger. Children of the atom, grown from tract home realities, and TV dinner education, never knowing what was sacrificed in order for them to inherit reality. Ever yearning, but never illuminated beyond convenience. With Blue Velvet, this universe seemed to side with overt innocence. But with Twin Peaks The Return, that innocence would serve to be but one vital element within a larger family. We can't have one without the other. And this is perhaps the ultimate condemnation of Bob Cooper, and America's neglected heart.

And maybe a sign that hope, isn't too far away.