I Had Some Disturbing Dreams Last Night

 I had some disturbing dreams last night; One of them was not disturbing, but funny. There's a show called Detroiters, a pre-cursor to a show called I Think You Should Leave With Tim Robinson. The two main cast members from both of those shows were in that funny dream. They presented a joke that made me laugh, and I presented a joke to both of them that made the three of us laugh. I won't go into specifics, as I'm almost certain that my dreams have been being documented somewhere.

I once wrote a song called "Sleep Well". In that song, I instructed any, and all, listeners "Please don't make that dream machine". The song talked about a machine that involved the creation of a "dream-linking machine". In another part of the song, I wrote "I guess that you could call it a song"; That "song" to which I was referring was the song itself...a warning to all those who were thinking of ACTUALLY making a "dream-linking machine", a horror in and of itself.

I thought I was being as specific as I possibly could. If any observers of this blog post are watching/listening/reading, have been involved in the making of an ACTUAL "dream-linking machine", I ask now that you sever that connection and destroy that "dream-linking machine". I've been having dreams that seem like they've been implanted into my subconscious; This is invasive, intrusive, and unwelcome...to some.

There are other dreams I've had that have been VERY welcome...and those dreams seem to have been cut short. I don't understand all that has happened to me in the past 40+ years, but I'm certain I've been "being fucked with", and I'd like to be let in on the joke so that I can be laughed WITH instead of laughed AT.

I'm funny. I know that for a fact. I understand, and appreciate, the humors I've been presented with even though some (or all) of them have been made at my expense.

There's a book called "Ready Player One". Something tells me that these jokes that were made at my expense were a part of a bigger story. I just cleared my throat, something that was undoubtedly recorded by those observers who've been watching me like a bunch of chicken-hawks; To those of you observing me writing this blog post, I demand to know how you have been observing me when I'm sitting in a private bedroom in a homeless shelter I've been staying at while I'm trying to proverbially get my feet back on the ground.

My cell phone service was recently halted from the generous, or joking, hands of a company called Cricket Wireless. I'd like my cell phone service restored, and I'd like my old phone number back. There are some phone apps I've been using, some of which ask for my phone number. The phone number I used from 2005 - 2021 or 2022 is the phone number I wish to continue using. It's a phone number that was activated in Northern Kentucky. I'm currently living in Los Angeles, or so I am told, and something tells me that there are those using a Tesla-inspired creation of "wireless electricity" which is both harmful and invasive. If I am, indeed, living in Los Angeles, "the electricians" who've been messing with me to an anguishing degree have been having fun at my expense and I'm ready to see through "the veil" of the joke.

You're going to have to let me leave, with all of my belongings and duffel bags full of cash. I need better joke-writers. I need to get paid more, and I want to work. If these blog posts inspire "the entertainment industry" to make more entertainment for me, you've done that before. I've written pilot scripts, I've written spec episodes of existing shows, I've written music, I've created a font of all capital letters, and I've been hearing dissent from those who want to keep me under them; I want "them" to drop dead. Use whatever means necessary to do that, but do it soon. Sometime within the next 48 hours would be great; I'd also like proof that you've dropped dead, along with an apology letter, sent to the address I've provided in my previous blog post.

Good day to you all.