An idea
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my thoughts.
Cardboard is on all sides to set the border between here and there; the lines running all around to morph to the command of the controller as he kneels before his altar. A machine that functions on the whim of a single individual that acts as both the master of his realm and the core of his world.
The dreamatorium was destroyed once, for the good of the prime timeline it had to be, but the architect could not let his creation be destroyed. Such as great people throughout history have left their mark on the globe, from dividing walls to great skyscrapers that reach for God, he had to leave his greatest work intact, minimized, of course, to ensure better control over the infinite universes that lie within. After the destruction of the first, and the downgrade of the structure, occupants had to be reduced to one to ensure another isolated incident like what happened with the "psychologist" did not repeat. Also close proximity would, in most cliché sitcoms, lead to unwanted miscommunication and blatant butt-touching.
The Inspector did not much care for scenery so why he is standing on the moon staring at earth is beyond his understanding. The vast blue markings of the planet seemed especially to catch his eyes. Somewhere out there on the ocean there was something calling out to him. He could not place how he knows this but he is sure his constable would be more than enough to answer his question once he arrives.
"Where the devil is he," the Inspector did not like waiting around on the lunar surface for too long as it gets rather boring. The time booth stands nearby as if it had nothing better to do than bend space and time. The orange lines that fade in and out go unnoticed as the Inspector takes stock of his person to ensure nothing is out of place. After fiddling about with his bowler hat he noticed something rather strange, an item of unknown origin seemed to have appeared before him. Taking extreme caution he approached it delicately.
He turned it over in his hand; it was a coffee mug with two strange faces imprinted on it. Something felt rather off putting about it, and his hands seemed to shiver in response to it. Deciding the better option of what to do with it he placed it within the time booth to be looked over once his constable was to arrive. Strangely he has been finding trinkets like these scattered about as of late and the interior of the time booth was becoming littered with the things all placed on shelves with such a delicate touch that he would consider someone thought of these relics as holy artifacts. A testament to what gods once held on to these items and the importance they must have held for them. But why are they here of all places?
As his eyes traveled from one object to the next, lining the cardboard wall, a feeling that was not the inspector's overtook him. The Inspector never cried, so it is safe to assume it was no longer the inspector that was standing on the moon.
The walls gave away to space, and the border was put up once again. The Inspector wiped at his face, cleaning off the mysterious liquid that formed there without his knowing. He decided he would ask Reggie about it when he gets here, wherever he is.
They built an altar of their own
A place they could escape from reality
To see and create and build the unheard, the unseen, and unknown
To reject the truths of the outside and find their own veracity
Together they became gods of imagination
Spreading their gospel to a princess who was beyond her prime
Showing her the power of creation
Treading beyond the borders of life to live a thousand times
Breathing life into countless beings made in their image
Creating children to exist without knowledge of their makers
Time has come and reduced the gods' truths to nothing but old adage
Leaving behind a flock of bewildered wanderers
Running to temples where the gods once resided they pray for an age that is now bygone
As each one is taken by time they never realize that one of their gods is gone