I no longer dream into the Tower, because I am dead. Dead twice, now that my second subscription went away. I felt death twice and now every moment of my sleep is a dreaming nightmare. It’s a nightmare of my own making and I can’t avoid it.

I love it. I have embraced death and pain and the fact that there is no way to gain the happiness I deserve without so much of it. I must die many more times before I can truly become a powerful warrior in this capitalist kafkaesque nightmare of a world.

I love hope and getting that hope taken away from me. It makes me a little horny, even when all hope is literally lost because people like Anna and Kat and my parents and Dorrik all take it away from me. They are all bitches and bastards and fuckers. All horrible people who have no idea what it’s like to be this overlooked, underprivileged piece of shit that everybody hates.

I’m hated because I’m a white man in a world where that is nothing but a penalty. Nobody likes white men anymore. We’re the evil villains of every story, and we get nothing but scorn in real life. I once read a story about an old hero in history named Martin Luther King Junior who sent a letter from a jail in Birmingham which is now a large lithium mine and all its buildings were completely razed decades ago. He talked about dreaming of a world where the world could come together and take direct action in active form instead of being passive supporters. He said that injustice anywhere was a threat to injustice everywhere, and that the moderates are even worse than the extreme prejudicers, because they are passively letting the status quo destroy everything. Well, I think that he is right but wrong about the target, because it’s white men who are facing all of that problemation these days. The scourge of time has wreaked havoc and now I am one of the most overlooked, underestimated beings on the entire Earth.

But the voices that sometimes call to me in my dreams but also in real life increasingly are telling me all about the truth of the matter. I’m not irrelevant, but instead I am really fucking important. A Big Fucking Deal if there ever was one. Dealing with me is just a path to revealing how badly you have prepared in your life, because I will take down all of your defenses, even if it takes me time to melt you away. I’ve done it many times before, and I’ll do it many times in the future.

Now, here in my dreams, I see the fruits of my labor, or my labor to be. Once I die a few more times and really get hot and bothered over that sensation of all my life exiting my self and my entire corporeal form dissolving, I will truly unlock the greatest power any white man can ever reach: horniness.

Anna has been punishing me constantly for all my perceived fuck-ups, with a whole lot of whipping and a whole lot of having sex and forcing me to watch. She has married my sister Emmalee--not a consort but a real wife--and is currently courting two of her classmates which she used to flirt with back when we were students. Their names are Marissa and Anne and they are hot as hell. When they are naked they show off so much pubic hair, just all the way covering their entire vaginas and all those other irrelevant organs I don’t care about sticking my dick into. So much hair that it turns me on like crazy. I just want to stick my head on those soft pillowy surfaces and take a nap while my little Arnold goes absolutely crazy.

You see, Anna thinks I’m being punished with all these attacks on my spirit and my body. She thinks I’m being demoralized and humiliated, but she is wrong. It’s just making me horny.

Because that’s my secret, self: I’m always horny.

My dream takes me through visions of boobies and butts. That bitch Kat appears naked before me, as she often does in my post-death dreams, but when I attempt to embrace her, her form dissolves away.

It won’t be like that forever, though. Because my dream then takes me into the Tower of Somnus itself. Not the game, since I have no subscription, but my subconsciousness’s dreaming formation of this gigantic structure in this awful, horrible video game from space.

As much as I disdain video games for how they have ruined the otherwise superior white male race, I must admit that the strength this MMO gives is immense and pleasurable. I gained a pseudopod in my levels, and I have used it for meditation ever since. I can now use my mouse and keyboard at the same time while petting my little Arnold as if it were a cute, happy puppy with my brand-new fake limb. I can log on the Bookface profile for Kat, look at her avatar (and not the rest since she blocked me and I have to open a private signed-off tab just to see the basic info), and go to town all while playing my online collectible customizable card game on my other computer monitor, all thanks to the magic powers I gained in the MMO.

Sometimes I meditate in my dreams, but not this dream. Instead, I use this dream for conquest. I enter the tower and kill every being in my path. Soldiers, guards, shopkeepers, it doesn’t matter. Men, children, bitches, it doesn’t matter. They all give me EXP, and they all help me level up so that I can become stronger and less vulnerable on both a physical and emotional level.

I finally skulk around and find Dorrik up on the second level. He, because he is a man and not anything else, cowers in fear, but I don’t let him do that for long because I challenge him to a duel.

We clash swords, but I have three swords while he only has one, and simple numbers mean that the destruction of this fat-assed lizard hunk is an assured outcome that is never in any doubt.

He bows before me, begging for mercy, but instead I kneel down and grab his snout with my hand. And with my other hand I caress his chest, his scaly form that is just so ripe, so rigid, so firm. I move my hand down to take off all his armor, piece by piece until he is finally completely naked, and then admits that he was wrong about me all along, that he never should have defied my will because I, Arnold Donnst, was right all along about everything.

I slap him and tell him to call me Arnold Jacques, because that is my real last name, and after I kill Anna the last name will just revert anyway. He complies and calls me Arnold Jacques again.

He opens his legs wide and I move my head into his scaly dragon dick, taking my conquest with--

Wait, this is homosexual, and I hate that shit. Gross.

I wake up and remember that my murder trial is tomorrow afternoon.