Who: Will and Theresa What: Asleep, though there are no dreams here. Just nightmares. Where: The brain (citation needed) of Will. When: During Theresa's three-day dream walking bonanza.
As a regular part of his routine, Will spent more than one night completely blitzed and unconscious on the couch. Anything to stop the dogs barking in his head, he told himself. That was a good one half of the reason. Really, it was because when he was alone, he knew how to hate himself the most and that was more trouble than he could deal with. Of course, no matter how hard he tried, his dreams never ceased to prickle at his neck until they boomed to the forefront of his mind, mocking him in ways he did his best to forget. Until the next time, that is.
Maybe it was because of TV always being left on, or because his brain enjoys fucking around with him, his dreams changed faster within than a remote could do so.
"And with this new handy dandy inflatable food processor, you TOO can puree to your heart's content anywhere anytime!" the smarmy announcer began, making sure to push the content of crap into the spotlight as the audience cheered. "It's the best thing since sliced bread--and I should know..." he grinned, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he pointed to his grey hair. A LAUGHTER sign alighted, and the audience responded appropriately.
Suddenly the 'channel' changed and the walls morphed to brick, becoming enclosing, almost suffocating. Graffitied all over said walls was many words, various deep shades of blue and black covering as much space as possible. Crouched on his knees was Will, furiously scribbling something. His face set in concentration, he ignored the muffled noises that appeared to be coming from the other side.
Channel returned. It returned to the regularly scheduled program as the old wrinkly man continued his cheesy spiel. "This simple amazing product can be just yours if only you, yes you," he pointed to the teenaged boy in the front row, who looked uncomfortable and yet familiar, "If you weren't such a menace. Can I have everyone repeat with me? A menace!" MENACE flashed above the audience. "Menace!" they parroted gleefully, pointing at the boy.
Menace, Will scratched in the brick wall, muttering the word to himself in the process. Finishing, he got up and walked. The channel changed and he could be found sitting down, leaning against a tree, picking at the grass around him as he watching a lake. The colors flashed from bright blues and greens to muted greys and back again.