So maybe some people have thought I’ve been a bit tempered lately. Not blasting out with scatological rants to vent the anger that pulsates within me. Rest assured my friends, it’s still there. I’ve just been too tired or too whatever to not really spew forth some of my genuine feelings and have taken the liberty to write about topics that concern most of us office cave dwellers rather than just full out bitch and moan. Yeah, there’s been anger and a cuss word or two here and there, but before I give you the impression that I’ve mellowed out, let me share with thee my dream.
I have a dream with chocolate rivers and marshmallow clouds. I have a dream of practicing carpe diem through the cereal I eat. I have a dream where I can share my Olive Garden salad bar with token Black people and Asians. I have a dream where white people wear FUBU and Black People use credit cards. I have a dream where I play a videogame because it’s good rather than because a commercial told me I couldn’t miss out. I dream of cheap villas, lobster thermadore and a nice affordable bottle of cabernet no one has ever heard of. I dream of eating a candy bar, drinking a soda, and pigging out with the potato chips of my choice without having some cocaine sniffing salesman hounding me to switch to his brand of 0 trans fat potato flavored cardboard chunks. I dream of a media frenzy centering on positive news rather than the labial antics of your preferred teeny bopper gone skank. I dream of a government that doesn’t rape its citizens and desists from lying to our faces on a daily basis. I dream of the abolition of racism so the best person can get the job instead of the snobby white fuckhead who knows the president through his uncle bob from back in the day when they shared hookers and reminisced over the beauty of slavery or the required minority employee that will feel marginalized justifiably or unjustifiably so by people who can’t get past the fact that he or she got the job thanks to his religious beliefs or the color of their skin. I dream of going to a Human Resources manager that doesn’t think I’ll rape her because I’m not white. I dream of being able to be accepted to talk with people from the mail room because I’m nice rather than because I’m bonding with people of my own color. I dream of yearly raises, good benefits, a decent retirement plan and the elimination of a Cash on Delivery Health care system. I dream of a day when I can buy a car as durable as an 80’s Volvo at the cost of a 70’s Datsun. I dream of a day where we resurrect the tragically killed and forgotten electric cars. I dream of babies not developing asthma from the air they are unfortunately subjected to breathe since the moment they are born. I dream of a day when Myanmar, China, Venezuela, Iraq, Iran, Israel, Chile, Argentina, Cuba, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Palestine, Korea and the US can get the fuck along without any nation wanting to bomb the other and not because the US or any other world power garnered enough nuclear leeway to deter anyone from upholding human rights that are constantly being spat on a daily basis. I dream of less advertising made with better messages, tools and less clutter bullshit advertising that serves no purpose whatsoever than to ridicule the main talent for having scanned the bar code in between their ass cheeks and not having an ounce of self worth before subjecting themselves to the supreme exploitation of their selves thus expiring the possible fifteen minutes of fame we are all ludicrously ensured. I dream of a day when I can trust a politician, a lawyer, and a doctor with my overall wellbeing rather than knowing they focus on their own personal agendas. I dream of copywriters and artists being respected for their craft and being prompted to be more creative while maintaining the effectiveness of a campaign. I dream of prima donna creatives dropping their egos and working rather than speculating on the next gallery they won’t paint or the next great American novel they will never finish. I dream of account executives not offering me more topics to write about and us working in unison to get the fuck out of the agency before I miss another second of living my life. I dream of media people not being limited and not conforming to do the same old media mixes. I dream of my email not filling up with junk mail and not having my regular mail clogged with coupons for pink leather slacks, tumbleweed flavored ice cream and the latest offers to switch from religion or phone company. I dream of eight hour sleep and thirty hour work days. I dream of waking up and not wanting to rip the fucking heads of all the people that insist on making a job harder than it has to be. I dream of not being nauseous after having breakfast, lunch or dinner for not being able to leave work at work. I dream of having people that back me up 100% when I’m right rather than cower at the supposed wrath of the client.
I’ve dreamt, I’ll continue dreaming and I dream. Because there is no law against dreaming. Because you confess actual sins and keep potentials ones ready to give the priest something good to punish you over. I dream because it’s free, contains no lactose, requires no down payment, keeps me young, gives me freedom, reminds me I’m still a kid and truly emphasizes on the limits of your thoughts and not of your context. I dream because it’s fun, because it feels real, because in a sense it is real. I dream because I am, and I am because I dream… or at least that’s what I dreamt once. I dream because I don’t need a reason to… and because I choose to.
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