“DANDY GOES LIVE AT 5:00 A.M.”

Filed under a crocheted afghan by Raine Solara, who woke up to the sound of soft jazz and the hum of too much truth.

Every so often, when the Retreat and Basement are silent but restless and when the jukebox stops skipping and the iguana bones have cooled, Dandy turns on the stream.

Annie and Ty

A grainy feed from the corner of the Basement Club, lit by a single candle in a vodka bottle
Dandy in full disguise-of-the-week (this time: a velvet robe, fake beard, and aviator goggles)
A steaming bowl of lentils beside him, always lentils, always uneaten
"Good morning, lovers of the strange," she says.
"Welcome to the in-between."

Conspiracy poetry about the alien cats in the wee hours at the Basement Club.
Dream interpretation sessions with zero training and too much confidence with Annie and Ty.

Lyrical rants titled things like:

“The Chapel Was Never Empty”

“Why I Blame Shay for My Cereal Addiction”

“When the Piñata Whispered My Password”

At least once per stream, Dandy stares at the visitors and says:

“The Retreat doesn’t sleep. It listens.”

This is Frank, and he claims
This was a different place before

Annie: local spirit-stirrer, known for reprogramming piñatas and leaving anonymous love notes taped to forgotten jukebox buttons

Ty: cryptic, denim-clad outsider who may or may not have built Engine 229 out of recycled jukebox parts and grief

Together, they are chaos wrapped in charisma and no stranger to surreal appearances.

“Why the Basement Club Smells Like Closure and Soy Sauce”

ANNIE (grinning): “Dandy, you still reciting feelings in lentil steam or did you finally open that portal behind the wine rack?”

It’s late. The Retreat is listening.

By 7:00AM, everybody has disappeared. And who was that Frank person? Nobody seemed to know him.

Raine's footnote: “I rewatched the feed three times. Each time, Ty’s words changed.

First, it was ‘apology.’ Then ‘invitation.’ Then I swear he said my name.”