To The Commune (first letter)

You’re still asleep. You wake up in a dream.

There’s a greasy kid (straight from a riot) telling you not to give up or in. She says there’s been a few glitches over the years, but soon the most misanthropic amongst us will be clamoring for a chance to join your lot and leave behind all of those humiliating, unspoken, schizophrenic habits our society depends on to perpetuate itself. No more ingratiating. No more shopping. No more work. No more suppression or thwarted feeling. No more lies. No more concern for things as they’ve been.
We’ll get rid of your most problematic factors. No more Kool-Aid. No more cargo cults. No more ego-maniacal sexual predators. No more in-house consciousness inquisitions, bomb factories or strictly rationed rice & bean diets. No more militant isolationists, mystics or prophets. No more dogma, except to say: “All Power To The Commune!”
Community will not be a goal (nothing will need to be held in common over difference). Organizing will be a means, not an end. Don’t doubt the extinction of bureaucracy! We’ll send it packing before it has a chance to take root. There won’t be another Dictatorship of the Proletariat. No one is taking over. We’re gonna take leave.
New souls will learn how to build solar panels and splints, make candles, clothing and software. They’ll become their own everything and leave titles out of it. They’ll retire the police and celebrity culture. They will discover Reality, the Moment, their own mortality. They’ll exit the cave.
The kid is now saying that you might as well go back to sleep (asleep in your dream), that nothing is immune to oblivion, that you don’t need to force it. You are as inevitable as the demise of the Universe, as assured as growing up and old.