Dear Mr. DiCaprio:
It has come to my attention that you are currently the star of a documentary about dreams. From what I understand, you have the power to walk into people's ears or something while they're asleep and play jenga with the buildings in their brains. What a wonderful talent! It's a shame then, that you never felt it necessary to stop by while I was sleeping for 100 years.
I don't want you to get the wrong impression: I'm not looking for love or romance, as I'm already living happily ever after, thank you very much, but I must say, I'm terribly hurt that you didn't even bother to send a note explaining why my dreams weren't worthy of your presence. So if you could find it in the sunshine of your heart to...you know what? Forget this fairy princess crap. I am so mad at you, Leonardo DiCaprio. I am so mad at you and it's time you knew it.
You totally dissed me and went to play dream arcade with some randoms while I sat up there in a tower waiting for Prince Garlicbreath to come wake me up from this bummer of a curse. I mean, honestly? What is your problem? Were my dreams not good enough? I've probably had more dreams than anyone who has ever dreamed, with the exception of Rip Van Winkle and let's get serious, nobody wants to go through that guy's brain and he snores like a freight train (or so I hear) and given the choice between Mr. Beardface and a comatose princess I think you'd tend to dream-swing my way.
I mean I know the tower is a bit of a drag, and the briar bushes were terribly prickly at the time but it's not like other celebrities didn't take the time to stop by: Freddy Krueger came through in a nightmare once and threatened to kill me until I complimented his sweater (stripes are so good on him) and told him that I already had Maleficent on my ass and really didn't to deal with him and his crap and and his ridiculous acrylics of death and he split, you know, pleasant enough, and went to harass somebody else.
Do you have any idea how boring some of my dreams during my curse period? I once dreamt that I was an umbrella made of Jujubes and that my job was to counsel vampire bats before they entered the workforce, which, yes, I guess is not something you see every day but after 87 hours of a vampire bat telling me that he didn't feel his resume really represented his "potential for dynamic performance" I could have used a little DiCaprio action to shake things up a bit, you know? Just a cameo, even! Show up half-shirtless like in Romeo and Juliet and yell "I am fortune's fool!" or "Sleeping Beauty rules!" or something. Throw a cursed princess a friggin' bone, would ya? It would have been pretty decent of you to create a small diversion for me after 289 consecutive days of dreaming about a tampon discussing how my spinning wheel finger prick was a metaphor for menstruation, but no. No. You had to go messing with everyone else's dreams instead. I guess the fairy tale world is a little too hardcore for you, isn't it, Hollywood Jones? Can't handle the ever after, can you? No. Didn't think so.
Rest assured that I will not be viewing your documentary this weekend or any weekend thereafter, unless it plays on cable late at night sometime, because I've recently developed insomnia and find it difficult to dream at all these days, which is really a blessing I suppose, because I've tired of dreaming in my sleep, and choose to embrace my dream life instead. I have my prince, and my inner peace, and my happily ever after. So you can keep slipping into other people's minds all you want to, DiCaprio, but the door to this kingdom is officially closed.*
*Unless I happen to start snoozing during a late night showing of that one movie where you have the Boston accent because rowr, you are gorgeous in that one. I'm still totally mad at you though. Forever!