We open on House and his team spelunking in a big cave with a big black hole in the ground. Not sure which incarnation of the team this is - the girl in it might be Cameron, Thirteen, or the new frumpy chick; it's difficult to tell in the dark. House looks very different. Instead of a cane, he is now using one of those four-pronged metal walkers, and he has a strange dowager hump. He moves slowly, using his walker often and looking at the floor instead of ahead. This looks natural in the dark cave, so it's not until action shifted to daylight that it becomes obvious how much he changed.
House et al are trying to determine what might have done something or other to the patient, who's apparently been to that cave. After some inane and unmemorable chatter, House gets that glass-eyed Eureka look, makes his way to the opening of the deeper cave level, and sings out a few operatic notes. Then he waits for the echo to die down and says:
"See how tinny they sound here? It's because of all the chemicals in the air."
The team agrees readily. However, one (i.e. me watching the dream) then naturally thinks: well, maybe House just isn't hitting the notes right?
As if in response to these thoughts, the dream cut to a daylight scene indoors, some time before the cave scene.
Opera house mid-rehearsal. There's a short rolly-polly cast manager, in costume for some reason, running up and down various hallways with a clipboard. His costume is 17th-18 century Europe: yellow riding coat, leggings and a white cake wig.
On stage, there's a bunch of extras - all boys, dressed in very similar costumes and going nuts without adult supervision. In the dream, 'going nuts' only meant dancing around from boredom, but the cast manager's disheveled and panicked look made one think it was pandemonium.
The cast manager can't find his tenor to begin rehearsal. In one of the hallways, he runs into House, who's wearing a similar costume to everyone. We now see plainly his metallic walker and his hunched back. The cast manager runs into him full speed and yells at him for being in the way. House snaps back that he only came by to try to get a bartending job, and he's leaving now.
Suddenly, the cast manager stops and puts a finger with a long fingernail into House's ear, like an aye-aye probing a hole in tree bark for grubs. He pulls out a glob of wax - a very shiny and sizeable one! - and eats it.
"Did you know that you have 350 joints?" he proclaims happily to House.
House answers that yeah, he did know, duh.
Next thing we see is House on stage: he's replaced the tenor. Apparently, the taste of one's ear wax is diagnostic of the number of one's joints, and the number of joints predicts one's ability to sing opera. And so there he is, wearing a white powdered wig and singing an aria on a stage full of boys dressed in period outfits, who sing back-up a la "Another Brick in the Wall."
I don't recall much of the aria, but I did catch the refrain. It was either "Motherland, Motherland, Motherland" in Arabic or "Whores, whores, whores" in Church Slavonic.
Nice to know my head can still do this.