Commercial That Was on Television in a Dream I Had

The ad said:

EXPERIENCE THE JOY OF TWO LIVES...

IN ONE SWEATER

and the visual was of two people sharing an over-sized sweater and holding eachother in it in the Winter season. The two giant sleeves on either side of them were empty, maybe just for ornamentation or optional.

The CameraPeople: Watchin' Future TV

CCTVs from some of the world's most dangerous and accident-prone stretches of road were programmed, unmanned, to be able to predict crashes, so that the TV show or channel would tune in to crashes from all over the world, right as they were about to happen. In the spirit of bigger is better, the show would therefore keep having more exotic, fast, or confusing stretches of road, and bigger pile-ups. Irony or humour would sometimes be an undertone of short voice-overs, though everything was delivered under the tone of safety and prevention.

After one mountain retreat rush-hour speedy pile-up in which the icing on the cake was a confused cop car, the voice-over came on saying that camera crews were on the way to the house of the person who caused the crash.

Outside the house, you couldn't tell if it was night or day, because all the camera people from different or the same (?) TV stations had their spotlights lighting up the whole outside of the house (yellow) and the entrance-way inside. Some of them eventually made their way in through the storm door.

"Are you worried about your father?" said a cameraman with a British accent.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" was the reply of a scruffy middle-aged man, clad in trucker hat and white undershirt, blue jeans. (His tone was saying, "Why don't you go fuck yourself?")

"What's his status?" the cameraman said.

"He's been released.": the undershirted man again, hostile look in eyes, a grin.

"Where is he?" a North American-accented cameraman asked. (You were kind of given the impression from the TV that the man in question might be out drinking somewhere.)

You could see on TV that this house was way messy and occupied by a huge family that would stereotypically be called "trash." The camerapeople kept looking around for safety issues to bring up and show to the viewers at home, while the family kept trying to tell them to leave already.

One cameraman asked about the overflowing deep freezer in the basement which could be seen through one part of the sagging floor, "Aren't you scared you're fumigating yourselves?"

A teenage-ish boy-child in yellow short-sleeve button-up shirt tucked into purple underwear shook a half-finished 2L of soda at him., "LEAVE!" he yelled with his head shaking/jittering more rapidly as he spoke more angrily.

The camera crews kept looking around, remarking or asking idle questions about the hospitalized man not present, or about safety as they tried to set up or take better shots, but wouldn't leave because they saw that the family was going to keep doing all this wacky shit. The family would go between yelling at them to leave, ignoring them, or the children trying to get the camerapeople or TV audience - you couldn't tell - to come play with them.

"And dammit the tools are all out!" a freckled blonde ten-year old-ish boy in a dirty white dress shirt said, picking up a drill from a cluttered large glass dining/kitchen table then throwing it down.

A bleach-mulleted haired woman walking by had been trying to tell camera people to leave, but seeing this immediately turned around and yelled, "Why won't you stop wringing my damn neck?" and grabbed the boy around the neck, her head shaking more rapidly as she got angrier. This head shaking jerkily tick was a trait the family had when angry, you could see, maybe was being seen as comic relief.

She let go of the boy angrily, and he fell backwards over the glass table and started to fall down the basement stairs.

Halfway down, due to clutter and loss of momentum he stopped sliding down. He adjusted himself to sitting, chin on hands, and harrumphed, then picked up a doll close to him and activated it so that it started winking to the camera and singing, "Party over he-ere, party over he-ere," the child making it dance and wanting you to come play. The doll started playing Spanish Flea and doing an automated dance routine as the child behind it stared directly in the camera, it zooming in and out, and refocusing.

At this point V woke me up asking, "What's so funny?.. What are you dreaming about?" When I told her all the above, she was quiet then said, "That's not funny at all. That's really really terrible."

A Dream I Had

 I was on the roof of our old school with V. It had just stopped raining.
 We walked around up there, enjoying the view, but for some reason the school was in a very urban environment, surrounded by buildings taller than it or taller.
 We were walking in the light rain after the heavy, around above the front entrance, when I remarked that we couldn't go that way; there was no way down.
 I realized while taking a side stairwell into the bnuilding that I had been thinking of fire escapes, and that we probably wouldn't have wanted a direct outdoor route down afterall, in the rain.
 Once inside, we ran into an old gym teacher, not that much older than us, but her hair was cut short now. She still looked kind of cute for a gym teacher, but kind of dykey. She started telling me - nervously, changing footing to only stand at 45 degree angles towards me and rarely making eye contact - that we
 "shouldn't go up on the roof after a rain storm. There's alot of debris sometimes that comes down and people might see you" and "You might not want to be up there this early. Well, maybe late afternoon, but like now? 8 am, 8:45 am... If you're going to be up there you should be coming down no later than 5, 5:25. Other staff might see you."
 I nodded soberly and assured her I understood, thinking in my head, "Yeah right, lady.
 Nobody's seeing shit."
 (This teacher/person doesn't exist in real life)
 Alone now, I made my way down a couple flights of the front staircase.
 It was the first day of school!
 The whole building was a-buzz. I was kinda nervous cuz I didn't want to seem like an oldman, and I knew everyone else must be younger than me. Hands in pockets and skipping down stairs and across halls, I decided to take alternate stairwells rather than a main one.
 I ran into Destroyer_MG. We noted to eachother that there were lots of seldomly-used routes for maintenance and janitorial workers that were dark or dingy, but good shortcuts between some classes. We went seperate ways.
 Just inside a stairwell off the ground floor's main area, I saw the band, Drugs, come quickly down.
 I remarked "Back to school, huh?"
 They walked by me, the only indication they might have seen me a furtive glance or two. I lit up a smoke inside the stairwell and thought to myself, "Snobs." After a couple puffs they leaped back into the stairwell doorway to join me, shooting the shit, and telling me lots of people thought they were snobs.
 Alot of students were going through the doorway, and one of the band members was kind of hogging the doorway to make it less obvious, but suddenly one of them said, laughing, "Don't you know it's illegal to smoke indoors?" Everyone laughed but then I realized where I was and how close to staff, near the office and lots of teachers, and me old enough to fine or charge, so I smoked a little longer, passed the rest off, then got lost.
 It was late now, people were late for class, and there was music and still lots of people but dwindling as I made across the main area. I ran into Destroyer_MG and I asked him, "Oh yeah, what classes you in?"
 He showed me his schedule and that the majority of his classes were on the level P2. "In the basement mixing up the medicine, huh?" I said.
  We were standing on the side of the main area, lots of people seeing us dally.
 At this point, something was going on in the main area where some of the students - I don't know if it was their choice or because they were late - were doing some kind of choreographed, modernized, r'n'b line-dance, and two teachers were sitting at a folding table in front of them directing and clapping to keep rhythm.
 "What classes do you have?" MG asked me.
 I took out a piece of paper. One major that wasn't bad, and - what - cooking?! Faced with the paper, I realized, fuck I don't mind cooking but now I know I don't want to learn it all year just so I can cook for OTHER people.
 MG said, "Where's your classes?"
 The same short-haired fictitious gym-teacher was one of the two sitting at the folding table, and at this point, there was happening a crescendo of kinda-shitty, synth pop, line-dance, techno.
 She was tapping her finger as fast as she could on a Macintosh laptop touchpad to increase the volume.
 "Shit," I said to Mike, "I don't have a schedule."
 "Didn't you get one at (he named an outdoor location, some residential corner some blocks from there)?"
 I saw the dykey gym-teacher tapping her finger look sideways at me.
 "No," I said.

 Standing there, I thought: "Oh well, what to do now. I guess I miss the first day of school. Guess I'll get high and wander around again." Then I woke up.