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Dream-Me, last night, tried to commit a crime.

That crime involved a diversionary set-up I and my team of crooks thought was incredibly clever: a bunch of old Walkmans each loaded with tapes full of random music and nonsense phrases. However, we knew the gig was up when we saw a police notice in a newspaper describing the very act we were about to do (against the neat Portland arcade Ground Kontrol; why would I want to anything bad to Ground Kontrol?!), so we fled. On a plane, which landed in some other town.

And Dream-Me realized events in the dream were about to get worse: I first noticed that the passenger jet we were on was landing not on a runway, but on a taxi way next to a runway (one of those two-level Airbuses was launching on the actual runway, the plane's right wing almost touching our plane's left one); then I noticed our plane was not slowing down.

I forced myself awake before this ended badly, but while still dreaming I imagined the plane we were on hitting a bunch of emergency vehicles.

Um, don't do crimes, people!

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