That's me, my good friend Nasu, two fellow basketballers and a coach as a god-like figure in a bus. It's gotta be halftime of the game but I don't know why we are in the bus. It feels natural, mind you. None of us has our basketball kit on.

I cannot see the coach-god - I don't even turn to him - but I definitely can feel his presence. He tolds me and Nasu to get out, rob a bank and orders those two other mates to replace us on the basketball field. All four of us step out of the bus and me & Nasu point who are the opponents they should defend. There's a big advertising sign hanging in the air which represents two fists with little fingers pointing on something that is supposed to be interesting. This is the fashionable way to point anything in the capital, Helsinki, nowadays: Use your little fingers instead of index fingers. I ape the gesture and would feel like an idiot if it wasn't supposed to be sarcastic.

However, we are on the duty here. We should steal some credit cards and their numbers. We have done this before - and got caught. I ask Nasu if there's any point to repeat the very same crime again because we will be busted in no time. "Well, what you gonna do", he says uninspirically. I agree. He means we really don't have a choice because the coach-god told us to do it.

So, this is happening in Hervanta, Tampere. There's a huge, I mean HUGE, machine people may withdraw cash out of it. First, Nasu takes the credit cards. I don't exactly know how he did it but maybe we had fixed the machine or something, I don't really know. Anyway, he has the cards, changes some money and finally puts one euro into the machine and thus the machine prints out the whole list of credit card numbers. There are loads of people in a queue but they don't do anything even though they witness the serious crime taking a place. They just stand in the queue waiting for their turn to use the machine that just was used in criminal purposes. We flee without panic. Been there, done that. While we run a loudspeaker in the Hervanta center makes our names known. It says that Nasu stole credit cards and there was me helping him, just like the last time.

We took a bus number 30. It's standing on the bus stop and no one's in. Nasu takes the driver seat. I notice two or three young mates on the back seat. We ignore each others. Nasu drives the bus aimlessly. I laugh that the police will get us soon. I ask if I should take the cards and hide them. Nasu says that it doesn't make a difference but we may try it. So, he slows down, opens the door and I jump out.

End of the story :)

Last night I had my first dream about E2.

Someone in the catbox revealed a dark secret to me: Everything2 is a secret cult. Apparently, all of the interesting content was merely a ploy to get young noders involved, and converted later. E2 memes such as Lesbians! Monkeys! Soy! and E2 is Unfriendly to New Order were in reality mystical expressions meant to introduce us to E2's religious core.

The XP system was a scam. Most writeups were given the reputations they deserved. A few, however, which in reality were propaganda for the E2 cult, were excessively C!inged so that they would be read more often, and so that we'd be conditioned to treat them as quality writeups. This would certainly explain the mystery of Butterfinger McFlurry.

How I learned all this information is unclear. It certainly did not come from that first catbox message, but was something I knew in the same way you know everything in dreams. At one point I was at a secret cult meeting which for some reason was taking place at a furniture store.

And then I woke up.


I'm in my apartment in California. At least it looks like that, but my bed is below the window, like it was until a few months ago before I rearranged my room. The door is open. I'm lying in bed, my head to the nothern side of the room, and I can see the living room. It is lit and there are people in it. The people in the living room are David Cohen and Michael. I hear Shay (from Topco) talking to people (he's probably in the conference room). David jokingly tells Michael that maybe it's time for a dinner break. It seems the time is late evening (8 or 9 PM). I'm trying to sleep. My right arm is almost completely paralized. I seem to be unable to move it from a very uncomfortable position it's in, even though I'm trying with my left arm (I'm left-handed in reality). There is some kind of painting or drawing above the bed, and no window (unlike reality).

The room is closed now, and dark. I'm in bed with someone named Tal (a girl or woman). I'm holding her from behind. She wants sex. I'm not so interested, but she demands it and pushes her ass against my loins. I see something that looks like it's a program on TV. It's about a creature called Poo. It looks like a student-made film, a low budget film. Something happens in it, but I forgot what exactly. It is a film about love. In it, there are a lot of shots that have the floor of a shabby Tel-Aviv apartment in them. Brown shadows of words appear on the floor in the film. They are almost illegible, but I can identify the word 'LOVE' in both English and Hebrew. After that, this creature Poo appears in what looks like a behind-the-scenes program about the making of an American movie. I can't remember what happens there, but I remember that in the movie, Poo is the alter ego of some grown woman who is also in the movie. Poo is a creature or rather, a person dressed up as this creature with a green face, a very big nose, a hat and a suit. I can't remember what happens with Poo in the movie, but I remember the image of Poo standing above an opening in the ceiling (of some room or building).

Poo enters my room (with a certain kind of ritual that looks like it has happened many times before). Poo is Tal (in reality I can't remember a real woman or girl named Tal). The room is dark. Poo is undressing (the hat, the mask, the suit). Poo has the body of a woman (I'm almost sure of that, but not completely). Poo enters my bed. She draws me to her by force, and I don't want to. She won't let me see her face. She covers her face, but I can see her eyes. Eyes that have fear in them, eyes that call out for help. But I cannot identify these eyes. Actually I don't know (in the dream, that is) who Poo is. Poo is a stranger, that's at least what I feel in the dream. I'm very scared. I'm crying. I feel completly helpless. I'm a child. I want to scream "I'm scared, I'm scared" (in Hebrew) but no sound comes out of my mouth.

I wake up.

I realize that I have dreamed about this creature called Poo before (a few days ago). The feeling of fear changes into a feeling of anger (how interesting!) and curiosity to find out what this dream means. I'm very anxious about what I might find out. I decide to write down what I can remember from the dream, so I can read it later.

translated from my dream log that I wrote in Hebrew.

In my real life, I had my car serviced. That brought on this dream...

I was on my way home from the Honda dealership when I noticed a smell of oil burning and white smoke coming out of the tail pipe, from under the hood, and numerous other places in my car. Sometimes it was so thick that I could not see in front of me. But my first priority was to return home.

Although I had already bought a house in real life, my home in the dream remained the old apartment. I arrived at the apartment complex but decided, against my better judgment, to check the mail first. I went to the drive-thru mail place and opened the box. Among the junk mail was a letter for me! It was from my co-worker Jeff. I was excited to see what it had to say, as he had plans to participate in a triathlon and I was curious to know the outcome. It was on Looney Tunes stationery but split into three pieces so that I had to put it together like a puzzle to read it. However, the smoke coming from my automobile was getting worse, so I drove home, to read the letter later.

When I pulled into a parking place, my boyfriend Mike and his friend Other Mike were grilling meat on the balcony. They came down because my car was smoking like crazy and the smell was something awful. They began to argue about the cause of this problem, when it was for certain that the guys at the dealership had messed it up. After a minute or so of bickering, my boyfriend reached under the hood, turned a knob, and all the smoking stopped.

At that point, I turned my attention back to the letter. I got through the first phrase, the nonsense line of "Rally me on this:" and I woke up before learning the news of anything.

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