I'm in the my backyard at night, working on a small film.  I am the On Set.  We're trying to get a difficult shot done with little light and an old ass film camera.  The crew is consisted of mostly people resembling people I knew back in Missouri, but not really them.  The camera suddenly runs out of film and stops working.  Everyone is very upset.  For some reason, an older gentleman there is the general helper-outer, and is apparently my dad.  I think he's drunk.  I remember that I have a camera very similar to the one we are using that I just got and have a basic working knowledge of.  I run like hell to get it, and bring it out to get this last shot so we can all wrap.  For some reason things keep going wrong.  I don't have a tripod, and know that I can't use the tripod we were using for the other camera, because set etiquette prevents me from touching camera department's equipment.  The film becomes unspooled and I am having difficulty putting it back in the camera.  The lighting consists of small candles and they are slowly going out, reducing the amount of light.  I know how to set focus and my f-stop, (even though every time I do, someone starts explaining to me how to do it) but while I'm trying to do all of this, various members of the crew just jokingly berate me.  I know they're joking, but it's really beginning to piss me off.  I know how to set this shot, I know what I'm doing, but everything seems to be working against me and no one will help me out.  While all of this is happening, the crew is getting restless, until it seems they all just kind of give up and start having a party in the house.  I finally get the shot set, but it's no use, the crew has already started drinking.  One of the crew members comes out and hands me a beer, telling me to drink.  I thank them for the beer, set it aside and try to go ahead and get the shot, but our actress has left.  It's no use.  I turn to the party then hear my name called out.  It's my "dad", but now the back yard is covered in hardwood, has mirrored walls and small halfpipes along the walls.  There is a central column that leads up to what is now a ceiling with big brown tarps hanging from the refters.  Everyone is now wearing skates, and a disco ball begins turning.  Dubstep is blasting and lights are going crazy.  These people are wasted already.  The gaffer is sycronizingly skate-dancing in fur boot skates with his girlfriend.  Everyone is cheering them on.  I go over to my "dad" who at first says he needs to urgently talk to me about something, then immediately gets distracted talking to other members of the crew.  I know that throughout the shooting day, he has done nothing but get in the way, and do everything wrong.  Now everyone is praising him. He seems to have completely forgotten me, even though I am standing there patiently waiting to talk to him about whatever it is he wanted.  He's shmoozing with the local talent.  One person, now two, now three people whom I had been trying all day to get in with to advance my own career are chatting up my "dad" telling him and I that he's the best.  They're completely ignoring me.  What the hell?  He only just met them today, and they're all buddy-buddy?!  Now the most boring and hatted guy on the crew comes over to me and starts blabbing in my ear.  I know that I won't be able to get ride of him, because he talks constantly and never lets you get a word in edgewise, and no one else will ever want to talk to him.  The shot's still not complete, everyone is partying down, and for some reason I know that I'm going to get in a ton of trouble and get fired because I couldn't get the shot before this happened.

Then I wake up.

Jesus...