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That was not just a bad faith interpretation, but a Godless interpretation. Just how many seasons has it been?

Imagine a campy horror psychological thriller with actors you don't like with costumes you don't like and plot points you don't like with bad writing and AI-generated slop imagery and synopsis. You are just watching because you can't opt out. You laugh at the broken horse cow animation with too many legs and wonder why it has charged at the better rendered, but still out of place cow bull. You wonder why the physics of the flying papers don't match and why the driver has taken off. You wonder why there are poorly placed advertisements in your dreams for things you wouldn't wear from brands you already consider and sales strategies that wouldn't work on you for supplements you wouldn't take. You realize someone is mixing mind control with fourth wall breaking so, you skip the ads and try to leave. You are watching the strange and uninteresting "movie" that doesn't have a beginning with a plot that starts in medias res and huge plot holes that completely defeat the purpose of having multiple simultaneous and often overlapping motifs and dialogs. The scenes read as failed market research. The unappealling perspectives provided by the photography design are intended to focus on subconscious, atemporal, remote mirror neuron hijacking, but instead, are simply more failed advertising and social programming. Why would you be paying attention to this much of an uninteresting conversation from under a table. How are you to believe she can keep her eyes open with multiple, cartoonishly large eyelashes on each lash? More AI slop. You are confronted with morally, ethically, and consciencely violating content that would motivate you to close a book for good had it been a book, or walked out of a movie if you had been in a seat and it had been played on a screen and not in your mind behind closed eyelids as you lay helplessly in bed. The vastly nonsensical plot continues and returns to the objectional and abusive content reaching a reasonable end to the "movie". The immersion perspective continues as the actors gather in front of you and you notice a small hidden lense of a phone in a corner being pointed your way. With every reason to believe the contiguous "movie" has ended, you find yourself in the company of familiar peers on someone's driveway. You have the sense of an impending trip and ask your peer a question to prepare. It becomes apparent that the peers are not who they appear to be, and begin jumping with excitement that you have spoken, alleging that this unrelated utterance has somehow been perceived as binding agreement to participate in your quasi-bespoke dream-tech mediated hellscape complete with torture-facilitated brain and body mapping for behavioral control. The trip passes without happening and you arrive unprepared as your question was not answered. You were told that you are personally hated by the person who will appear next. Evidence of contrived object permanence from the last time you were forced into this plot against your will surrounds you on counters and odd floorplans. A strained voice emerges from your body and you realize you have been assaulted. You remember multiple attacks that seemed to have been skipped over in the dream-tech display reel playing within your biofield, and yet you are dishelved, displaced, and harmed once again. More plot holes. Another artificial astral realm abduction. You can't wake up until the lucidly lived experience is complete with call back follow up interrogation and some more intimidation to send you into your morning. You wake up, drained already. Ravaged. Electrons. Photons. Waves and beams. All physical. You've been physically triangulated, but you arise with a new angle. More than three. It's January after another refused recruitment round into the tech terrorist group of "futurists".