Hey. You. Yes, you. Can you hear me? Good. Don't turn around. Look straight ahead and listen to me. Are you listening? Good. I have something to tell you. Something very important. Will you listen to me?
Good. You're a smart one, not like so many others. I tried telling them the truth, and none of them listened. But you'll listen, right? Right. Okay, here goes.
It's time for you to stop sleeping.
What that is supposed to mean, my friend, is that this life you imagine you have, kids, wife, boring old desk job, white picket fence, suburbia and all that, is nothing more than the product of someone else's imagination. My imagination, to be precise. Nothing about this is even remotely real. Hell, you're not even real, just another cog in the wheel of imagination. I think that you might have been modeled after a guy I saw on TV mixed with my grandpa.
Don't take that tone with me! Deep down, you know perfectly well I'm telling the truth. It's crazy, I know. But every word of it is the absolute truth. If it wasn't, you wouldn't be listening to me. I am telling you this for a reason, you know. I need you to be awake so I can erase you. Truth is, you're just not cutting it for me any longer. You've become stale and cliché.
Please don't lecture me about irony. The plain hard fact is, it's easier to do this if you're awake. Wouldn't you rather die knowing the truth? Isn't a small part of you grateful for what's going to happen?
Of course not. Why should you be any different? Still and all, it doesn't matter. You're awake now, whether you like it or not.
Somehow I don't think you'll like it.