She woke up and the first thing that she noticed was a large spider on the ceiling above their bed. It was sitting on a web spun in the corner and the way that the sunset bled in through the window, the web shone a faint pink colour. She sat up and looked at the clock. Six PM. Time to wake up for another night. She shook him and bade him a good morning kiss, before getting up and throwing open the curtain. The sunset was brilliant and the purple clouds played in the sky around the bright red orb slowly sinking into the horizon. She stood naked before the window and watched the cars stream by on the other side of the garden. The shadows thrown over the city by the setting sun were long and fleeting. As the cars went by they cast their shadows on her face and the brief spell of darkness made her think of eclipses.
She turned to him. He was lying still on the bed naked, with the covers pushed aside. He was rubbing his eyes and yawning. He rolled off the side of the bed and landed on the floor. He came over to look out the window with her. "What’s you looking at?"
"Just watching the shadows."
He nodded his head. He was still half asleep.
He stumbled out of the room and still she stood motionless in front of the window. She was trying to recollect her dream of the previous night. Absently watching the shadows dance about the trees, she thought of fire. Flames dancing in the waning sun. Words trying to inflame themselves and take control of her conscience. He came back into the room and began to put on some clothes. She went over to the mirror to brush her hair--it was tangled and ruffled. She might as well have a fiery mane instead of a head of hair. Her thoughts and desires were ignited by the setting sun.
"I am having trouble remembering my dream from last night." She was looking at him in the reflection of the mirror.
He looked at her still naked standing there. "Hmmm... let's go have a smoke. Maybe that'll help you think."
"Sure." She grabbed her jeans and a t-shirt. "I have these fragments in my head. I remember sitting on these stairs. They seemed so familiar but at the same time completely alien. They were in an alley somewhere. They were very steep and we were sitting there with this man that I didn't know--though you seemed to know him."
"What did he look like?"
She shrugged. "He was... I don't know. I just know it was a man. And apparently you knew him."
"Oh. I see."
"You were talking to him and I was trying to phone somebody, but I was getting terrible reception and I think that I was talking to my brother, but his voice was choppy and full of static. Perhaps he was on the other side of the world. I don't know. He wanted to get together and go for a drive."
"A drive to where?"
"I think he just wanted to get high and drive around."
"That seems fairly typical."
She nodded. "Then there were the pastries. This man that you were talking to produced a box of danishes. They were very tasty looking but for some reason he didn't want to share them with me. Only you."
"Mmm.... I wish I had a danish right now." He stuck a cigarette in her mouth and opened the door. "You can tell me more while we smoke."
She followed him out the door and lit her cigarette. "Then somebody else came and told the man that he was needed inside. He abruptly got up and ran up the stairs. I took his spot on the stairs and we sat and talked for a while. I wish I could remember all of these conversations. It seemed like an interesting one."
"Remember anything else?"
"No, I think I woke up somewhere around there." She pondered for a moment. "But it's all so fragmented."
He reached over and stroked her head. "You can't remember everything that you dream."
"I know. But I do like to try. It is my head after all. I like to keep tabs on where it's going while I’m asleep."
"Who cares where it goes? I’m sure it makes these journeys sometimes just trying to weave all the pieces of your waking life together. Sometimes I’m sure you dream for nothing more than your own mind's amusement."
"Huh?"
"Well, what other reason do you watch movies or television?" He tapped on his skull with his index finger. "I’m sure even while you sleep your mind is in search of those fleeting pleasures that we all search for while we are awake. Why would sleep stop the relentless search for gratification?"
She looked thoughtfully at him. "But couldn't, or better yet shouldn't, that cease to be while we are in a state of repose? I mean the mind too needs a break from the waking life once and a while. Why would it be in constant flux with reality? Sleep is an escape."
"The great shrouding blackness... sleep." He stopped to puff on his smoke and watched the smoke curl away into the sky. "We still live even though we sleep. We are still breathing, functioning, thinking. What makes you think that just because you sleep that you can escape the doldrums of everyday life?"
"Why? Because I try to."
"Some things are harder to get away from than you could ever imagine. How old were you when you first sat in front of the television? You were probably still inside the womb listening to your mother watching television. Mindless repetition of certain words and phrases. It’s so ingrained into our conscious and subconscious lives that nobody can escape it."
"It doesn't hurt to try to break free though. I know that I’ve consumed just as much media as anyone else. Who raised me? Certainly not my parents. The television did." She crushed her cigarette butt into the ashtray. "Where did I learn the facts of life, so to speak? From afterschool programs. Where were my parents? I have no idea. Between the age when I first started to consciously remember and note my daily activities, I hardly remember anything all about my family. I do though remember very clearly all the television shows that I used to watch."
"Well, see, it's unavoidable. There are some things that you just can't escape in life and the onslaught of media that we've had crammed down our throats since before we were born affects us all--whether we want to acknowledge it or not. Today the media is more infective than the plague."
"It is the new plague." She laughed. "Just as contagious too."
They went back inside and sat on the couch. He flipped on the television and it hummed to life. A barrage of images and sounds came out at them. She grabbed the remote control and turned it down. There was a flashy soap commercial with a lady showering amidst an array of colours and free-floating flowers. The music led to the impression that she was in a state of ecstatic delirium.
"I don't think I’ve ever had a shower that dramatic," she mused at the screen.
A commercial next of a woman washing her dishes. She was standing at the sink with tousled hair and sighing. The colour was faded and dull. A man came down in a bright green suit and the colour brightened to a brilliant array of greens. The woman smiled and threw her label-less yellow bottle into the garbage and the man in the green suit gave her a new bottle--a clear bottle of green liquid soap--"try this." the woman held the bottle in her hand as though it was a holy relic and smiled absently at the product. The man turned towards the screen and said in a convincing voice, "now it comes in three new scents--lime, green apple, and avocado--get them today and see the difference." a close up of the bottle. Fade to black.
"Why the hell would anyone want to go out and buy three bottles of dish soap just to experience the new scents?" he sneered.
"Because the man on TV said so." She leapt to her feet and pointed to the sky. "To the grocery store! I need to make my dishwashing experience all the more exciting!"
He laughed and pulled her back down to the couch. "I don't think that anything could make washing dishes any livelier." He began to flip through the channels--on each station they passed a commercial was playing. He flipped more rapidly through the channels. The images blurred together and the cut-off voices blended together into a jumble of undecipherable jargon. He went through all three hundred or so channels on their digital network and on at least half of them there were commercials. He flicked the power switch on the television set.
"Nothing on as usual." She mocked in an official sounding voice that sounded like it had just been pulled out of a TV commercial. "Just advertisements. The new media. I bet if they could get away with it that they would have an entire station devoted to nothing but commercials. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three-hundred and sixty-five days a year of nothing but your favourite advertisements. Jingle after jingle. Slogan after slogan. Your headquarters for all your mass-consumerism needs. No need to sit through all those boring programs to see your favourite ads anymore. Channel 666 for your viewing pleasure."
"Come now... don't insult the devil. I’m sure he doesn't even like all the commercials." he joked.
"What channel would it be on then?" she thought for a moment. "Channel 333--the holy trinity of infomercials, advertisements, and paid testimonials."
"They’d probably put it further down. Channel 1--easier to find. The first thing on the secret television conspiracy’s agenda--advertising. Catch them while they're young, because a young mind of today is the consumer of tomorrow."
"Yes, why would you want to know anything relevant like the news anymore--it's all so depressing. death, dying, murder, bombings--instead look at all the pretty colours and hear the soothing words that the companies have paid psychologists to devise to make them all the more appealing to you. look into my product--look deep into my product and say to yourself, 'yes, I want that.' desires that are mere suggestions that go beyond desires because half the time there's no reason for the desire except for the fact that you saw it on TV so it's gotta be great."
Her eyes lit up with words. "To want. To need. To desire. To not know why one desires something other than the fact that it was presented in full colour and high definition sound for your viewing pleasure. To need is too often confused with the verb to want. We don't need half of the things that we want. Why do people eat so much and become obese? Not because their body needs the food, but because their body craves the stimulation--the want that is never satisfied. That greed that burns away in the bellies of the average consumer."
"The need to want. We need air, water, food, rest, and warmth to survive. We don't need much. We are animals--animals with a complex though. Is it possible that we could ever revert back now? What if the world ended and there was nothing left but empty shops and aisles full of useless products. A nuclear wasteland. Where are all those pretty clothes and face creams going to get you when all your food and water are contaminated by radiation? What good is that new high-tech potato peeler going to do you when the very air that you are breathing is slowly contaminating your lungs and body?"
They lay on the couch musing over words for a quite some time before hunger struck their bellies like a flash of lightening. They had been talking for several hours with no break. They got up and scoured the kitchen for something to eat, but the only thing that they had was instant noodle soup and bread.
"Wait!" he exclaimed. "I know how to make these noodles a bit tastier."
He ran out of the kitchen and she could hear him rummaging around in their bedroom. He returned a few minutes later with a baggie full of magic mushrooms. Her face lit up. "Fungus!" she was delighted.
She put on a pot of water on the stove and dumped in the two remaining packages of noodles and soup base. "Where did you get them? Why were you holding out on me?"
"I just got them the other day. I wanted to surprise you. Just waiting for the right time..."
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I couldn't think of a better gift."
"I know. Let’s make some really funky noodle soup today and go out for a walk..."

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