My one shot at The Big Time, stymied.

I have about five dreams a night when it's silent. Listening to the radio has become habitual for me so on the occasions that I do not it seems that a whole stream of strange ideas pop into my head. I was directing a music video, for whom I don't know. It was some new radio friendly, "punk" anthem band. Atypical to the poster boy concert footage, or shitty dubs and close-ups they had hired me to make a strictly animated video. I can't draw. Yet some how in the world of sleep I had achieved the goal of making a video they were satisfied with. It was a cartoon with character voiceovers throughout the song, of a raccoon, a monkey, and a weasel that had been kicked out of their parents' houses and were now wandering the city looking for their first jobs. All three unconcerned with this first shove into the world of responsibility, they cruised around in a Cadillac, trying to score some loot for cheap beer and weed. I kept asking the band if they were serious about the video, if it was what they really wanted. They couldn't stop talking about how "stoked" they were, or about how "sick" the video was. I was watching it after the final edits and didn't believe that I drew it. I knew that if it was released I had no future in the industry. It was a nightmare.