Twisted trip through the looking glass

“If you like ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ but there’s not enough sex and violence in it,’’ he has boasted, “then ‘Dissocia’ is the show for you.’’

Then again, if Alice’s anxiety-fraught descent into the land of topsy-turvy logic strikes you as plenty disturbing already, you might find yourself in over your head.

Lisa Jones (played by the emotionally transparent Philana Mia) is a young woman of indeterminate occupation who is suffering from some unspecified anomie - a sense that she’s off somehow, not in sync with the rest of the world.

We first see her sitting cross-legged on a blank sea-green box of a set, tuning a guitar string ever more tightly until, inevitably, it snaps. A visit from a Swiss watchmaker (John Greiner-Ferris) with some rather peculiar personal habits - an early hint of grotesqueries to come - provides her first clue as to what has gone wrong. He insists that Lisa literally “lost’’ an hour during a trans-Atlantic flight and must search for it in the realm of Dissocia if she’s ever to reset herself aright. Her apartment turns into a crowded elevator - the dream kind, which goes every which way, not just plain old up and down - and she’s off and running.

Neilson has all sorts of fun, some distinctly sick, concocting the peculiar encounters that make up Lisa’s bizarre quest, and in keeping with the seeming normality of dreams, the director mostly “keeps it real.’’ It’s a real shame, though, that she didn’t decide to require English accents to match the British locutions that pepper the script: The continual disjunct is jarring and works against our need to suspend disbelief as the increasingly preposterous scenarios unfold. This mostly very talented troupe could handle the extra onus.

Standouts among the ensemble include Andrew Oberstein and Jeremy Benson as a pair of Tweedledee-and-Tweedledum-ish “insecurity guards’’: If something is secure, they argue, “why would you have to guard it?’’

In her peregrinations, Lisa often proves more Dorothy of Kansas than Alice of Oxford: She’s ruled by empathy rather than propriety. But in the harsh world of Dissocia, Lisa’s tendency to put others’ well-being first proves a liability, especially in the case of a “scapegoat’’ (Andres Rey Solorzano, horned and befurred) seeking additional cause for penance. This is a truly horrific, stomach-turning scene. Neilson is pushing the boundaries, and it’s not clear to what end, beyond the need to prove that he can.

“Was it all a dream?’’ is the coda that haunts both Alice’s and Dorothy’s far tamer tales. Neilson’s brief second act posits a more clinical explanation, and though the revelation is meant to come as a surprise, the playwright has dropped rather a broad hint right in the title.

Never mind: This segment gives us a chance to witness Mia in a recognizable, realistic setting, and her capabilities emerge even more clearly. As Lisa, Mia must essentially shoulder the whole absurdist show. It’s only when Lisa is brought back down to earth that we can fully see the fine, subtle actress in our midst.