There is a super hero, he is old & used up. Unwanted. He clings to a dead belief system. He goes through the motions...fighting lame villains, getting cats out of trees, autographs at super market openings.
In the dream I am sitting on a scratchy old plaid couch in one of those cheap desert rentals in California. I am watching a news report about the demise of the hero.
The dream flips and I am in an urban courtyard. There are three fat little goth kids observing a grave...they look animated, like they came from a Tim Burton film. When they see me they whisper to each other and scurry off. I see they were looking at the grave of the tragic hero.