Please be advised that I am dissatisfied with the service I am receiving from your company.
The dream you sent last night was full of people I used to know but have not thought of for decades. I have not wanted to think about them. I do not appreciate being entangled in events during my sleep–when I am trying to rest–that I would walk ten miles to avoid if I were awake.
Perhaps you need to re-train the personnel designing the dreams, or maybe there is some slacker who is not being thoughtful or accurate in filling orders. Just throwing things together willy-nilly with no regard to your customers’ profiles– their likes, dislikes, interests, and tastes. Is it all computerized? That would explain it.
When I first opened my account with your company the products were of high quality. The first dream I remember was of a purple dog playing a pink piano–an excellent choice for a little girl’s dream. I was still laughing when my mother woke me. There was also the one at about age 10, where I was riding a horse on a large ranch. Fabulous content, but it ended too soon, and I had to order a happy ending from Day Dreams, Inc.
Shortly thereafter, the quality of your products started being rather inconsistent. The dreams in which I could fly and jump long distances were great. The snake dreams were just cruel and tasteless.
Quality took a definite downturn when the theme of every dream was “Supreme Frustration”. There was the one where I realized I hadn’t attended my World History class all year, with finals approaching, couldn’t find my locker, and when I finally did, couldn’t remember my combination. Which of your sick employees produced the dream where all my clothes disappeared while I took a shower after gym class, and I had to walk down the halls of my high school with only my books to hide behind?
I have dated my cousin, had to run in high heels, drive a car in which I couldn’t reach the pedals, done things that are too embarrassing or shameful to tell–you know what they are–forgotten that I had babies to take care of, and once–I think this was a dream–killed a man and stuffed him in a black garbage bag.
I have no interest in any of these plots: baby sitting, substitute teaching, trying to put together an outfit where there is always one piece missing, or kissing that creep I dated in high school that dumped me for a girl named Cricket.
This is my formal request to close any and all accounts or connections I might have with your company or any of its subsidiaries. If you cannot, for some reason, remove my name from your service list, please sign me up for the chip you have available which deletes all memory of any of the dreams I receive.
I would appreciate your full consideration of my concerns and requests as outlined in this letter.