The empty promises of the Dreamweavers

I think this is a lackluster dream.

If you really want to be one of those hallowed and illustrious “millionaires” why don’t you find a way to become one?
Or do you really want to devote the required time and effort? Is it easier to sit on your rump and wail away about your ill-fortuned laments? I suspect this is the case. Those who are fond of saying shit like “I wish I was a millionaire” as a gesture of idle discourse are most likely not striving or “movers & shakers.” When you repeat that mantra in your typically lazy, bloated manner, it tells me,

1) You are lazy
2) You lack originality to the extreme
3) You find more solace in dreams than in action
4) Taking into account items 1-3, I also venture to guess you are a leech and find little dishonor in weaseling your way into any spare change possible, or hitching free rides by piggy-backing on the work of others.

You cling to that dream tenaciously, as if its manifest delusion is such a prized possession. You will not easily accept doubt of such dreams.
If I were to ask “why would that make you happy if you were not happy already” or “wealth is an illusion, it’s a mirage of bliss but once you attain it, you will realize that your life still sucks; millions of dollars will not quench the gnawing gape in your soul” you would laugh at me. Empowered by the chorus of those who share your agreement, you would ridicule my sincere hesitations about the power of wealth.

You will resort to the lowest common denominator justification and castigate my sentiments. “Give me a million dollars and I’ll show you,” you might assert. But that is a dream and you know it. It’s a lazy mindfuck and you know you will never have a million dollars in your pocket because you are slothful and spend your life fantasizing about a life you don’t have the drive to make happen.

People like you spend your days creating idyllic worlds of wealth and luxury while being simultaneously trapped in the self-perpetuated world of broke misery and personal squalor. You still find it necessary to mimic a life of extravagance, and in this society which subsists on the tenets of credit and consumerism, you still swim in the delusion of facades and you love spending money that is not yours because you adulate a life you don’t have. So you lust after riches, but only half-heartedly.

“I wish I was a millionaire” is a broken dream for a broken soul.

Why is it that the poorest and stupidest are the most cold-hearted utilitarians?

When money is not plentiful, people lose the noble lure of humanity and character. In the face of sparse survival, they become robotic fixtures reacting to and following the blind march to procure money and goods. More of it, more of them!

In its absence, money becomes mysterious because it is unattainable. Because it is unattainable it becomes deistic. You worship a dollar above the integrity of your character. You wish you were a millionaire but you do not wish to be an honorable and intelligent human being. Your character, thus unassembled and fragmented, will simply crumble under the pressure of bags of gold should you ever attain that dream.

In this world, always and forever, the illusion of grandeur posesses the human spirit and we venture to be nothing worthwhile. We seek a mundane existence of materialism. We want to be millionaires.

Earlier I said you spend money you don’t have for a dream.
By spending money in such a manner you also live a life you don’t have.

You have no ownership of your soul because everything is for sale. Your dignity has a price tag. You do not ask for much but are happy to assume a soulless burden in order to placate your base desires. Spending money that is not yours for the mask of a dream that is not yours is to relinquish your humanity to the Dreamweavers who patch together your empty castle.

The Dreamweavers derive strength and power in your simplistic, short-sighted ambitions.

“I wish I was a millionaire” thus creates a dynamic in which the Dreamweavers become that which you worship by virtue of your longings. It is in their interest to perpetuate your hollow dreams for it is your helpless and vain pseudo-ambition which lines their pockets with gold.

The day you peacefully surrender the wish and embrace the treasure of humanity is the day the Dreamweaver’s castle will crumble.