A letter I get in my dreams

Dear Mrs. Waneka,

We, the CEO's of a major Bank in America, have stumbled upon your blog.  We find your writing both lively and full of candor. Additionally, we find your gaggle of readers to be desirable and splendid individuals; they are the perfect profile of our most desired potential clientele.  Finally, we have come across your life list of things to be getting to while the getting is good, and we have come to to a rather exciting conclusion.  We will fund every last dime.

We would like to inspire people to hope for the most, and expect the best.  We want to shake off the dust of that fussy little economic mess we created and  remind people that crazy dreams are worth a second thought.  We find you to be just crazy enough to check off these items on your list.  And would you know, we're the perfect amount of profitable to support it.

Please pack your bags and assemble a team of cohorts and experts to begin checking items off your list.  Be sure not to pack any shoes, as we would like to personally fulfill that wish of  "the perfect shoe collection" right away. 

Quit your job without delay, we will send a plane for you in the morning.

Signed,

Bank of Awesome

At least that is how the letter reads in my dream.  How can I get someone to sign this dang thing?

Well. Item no. 6 is to deejay at a club for at least 1 hour.  I want to learn how to rock a pair of enormous headphones  and then show people my inner-booty-shaking-self via my fat beats I mix.  Road trip?