When Paul Taylor’s “De Suenos Que Se Repiten (of recurring dreams)” received its New York premiere on Tuesday night, it began where the choreographer’s “De Suenos (of dreams),” first seen here last week, left off: Richard Chen See as Death in a cone of light leering at the audience. Death seemed to have had the last word, but on Tuesday night, when both pieces were performed back to back, not just Death but many of his companion characters returned in “Recurring” to make the claim that they were more than just passing phantoms.

“Recurring” begins as the 14-member cast enters from the upstage right wing. They enter backward, thus suggesting time being rewound, recalling for a moment the lifetime-passing-before-our-eyes motif that Mr. Taylor’s former employer, Martha Graham, had used in her “Clytemnestra.” Mr. Taylor evokes death as not only he-who-laughs-last but as a nullity from which life is generated. That is suggested by way of the resurrections that seem to have occurred since we left part one of this dreams diptych. For example, the antler-clad Michael Trusnovec, who was earlier struck down in “Dreams,” is now very much center stage once again in “Recurring.”

The “Sadko” sea princess is back, too; actually, Mr. Taylor calls her the Virgin of Guadalupe, named for the 16th-century Mexican icon that depicts an apparition of the Virgin Mary. She’s holding the skull that gets passed around in both halves of Mr. Taylor’s dream voyage, the classic emblem of mutability and mortality. She and the bowler-wearing Death continue to be twin sentinels.

We go to one of those macabre sacrificial rites that Mr. Taylor so enjoys staging in his theater. Here the sacrificed maiden does not succeed in assuring the tribe’s vigor, for they are on their haunches, legs twitching in the air. Tomtoms throb on the soundtrack; Mr. Taylor again uses a slew of disparate tracks in “Recurring” as he had in “Dreams,” some of them a hubbub that sounds like shortwave interceptions.

After a blackout, the Virgin cartwheels back in, with her signature blend of acrobatics and adagio vocabulary. She then carries Mr. Trusnovec in her arms, reminding us how in dreams people often seem weightless. The piece now turns into a number of short takes and sight gags. There are two adolescent sweethearts, as well as two men who kiss, and a woman with a pregnant belly, out of which a doll-like fetus keeps dropping. Her friend replaces it under her blouse before it drops again and he throws it into the wings.

Now Mr. Trusnovec reappears, no longer in antlers but in white suspenders with all the other men dressed the same way. Paired off with the women, the couples dance away heedlessly. Death appears suddenly and proceeds to mow them all down, but then the Virgin goddess brings them back to life as the curtain falls, demanding that we all come back to waking consciousness.

As always, it is wonderful to watch the figments of Mr. Taylor’s imagining spill onto the stage; whether they’re designated chimeras of waking or dream states, their behavior always conforms to a particular logic that is phantasmagoric. But “Recurring” only partly succeeds in developing and amplifying what Mr. Taylor has already said in “Dreams.” Performed as a pendant piece, “Recurring” is a bit anti-climactic. Mr. Taylor doesn’t run out of ideas, but halfway through “Recurring,” theatrical tension begins to slacken as the piece turns into one brief skit after another. Mr. Taylor seems to be getting arbitrary, and not quite in the precise manner of fecund symbolism that the two pieces are meant to employ. Perhaps Mr. Taylor will make some adjustments to tighten his omnibus of sweet and sour dreams.

The program closes with Mr. Taylor’s 1975 “Esplanade,” in which he gives a dance rhythm and continuity to our everyday vocabulary of walking and running. The third and final movement appropriates the sports arena by way of what seems like nine innings’ worth of perilous slides and crashes to the ground. It’s all set to Bach, and on Tuesday, “Esplanade” was performed to live music, which is now a rare occurrence on the Taylor stage. American Ballet Theatre’s David LaMarche conducted the Orchestra of St. Luke’s, and their buoyant music-making enhanced the Taylor dancers’ continually amazing high-impact daredevilry.