For some reason, I was at the entry of the most luxurous casino of Las Vegas. I had imagined you had to be really welldressed, welthy or whatever to enter, but when I reached the door, the guard just asked me one question: “Can you randomly generate three different number?”

I was shocked. “That’s easy”, I thought, and said the numbers 3, 12 and 26.

Within moments I was grabbed from behind, dragged down in the dirt and suddenly I had handcufs and a blindfold. I lost conciousness and woke up minutes later in a cold prison cell with great metallic bars. Apparantly the cell was placed not far from the entry, because I saw the people passing through the gates, after being asked the question and after successfully generating three random numbers.

When I woke up I spent the entire bike ride to school (about twenty minutes) thinking about the dream, realising it’s impossible to generate a random number for a human being as a human’s thoughts are constantly bombarded by feelings and associations.

For example, the numbers I unconciously choose (3, 12, 26) are all low numbers (humans takes lower numbers since it’s harder thinking of higher ones), and they are in order by size. I don’t exactly know why this is, but I often happen to choose numbers in size. Probably it’s because I think “oh, that’s not high enough, I unconsiously choose low numbers so I have to try a bit higher”.

I can’t wait until I start reading the discrete course of maths.

Then I woke up.

I was in America (I live in Sweden) and walking on a town square, I met two bag robbers. I had a baby carriage with my two guitars and my bag in it. While one of the bag robbers talked to me, the other tried to steal my things. Since I understood he was a bag robber, I shielded them all – but forgot one of the guitars (my favorite). He ran away with the guitar, and when I ran after him, the other guy stole my other things. For some reason, I suddenly had the stolen guitar in my hands (don’t know how), and ran away to the edge of the square. There, I met a girl who I asked to call 911 while I ran towards my stuff to get them back. When I was standing by them, I realised that I was surrounded by maffia guys, all of them holding guns aiming eachother. I had to duck to avoid the bullets, but then someone screamed “Hey, let’s take him instead!” and all of them shot at me. I ran away on the same time as the police came, and while the others were hunting the criminals, I told one of the polices, “It’s obvious that I’m in America, no-one would ever shoot a friend in Sweden.”

I’m weird.

By night, we went into his house, as the family who lived there. The radio was turned on, so Emmy asked if we could turn it off. I said no, but one minute later I did it myself. I was kind of a leader there. We also ate ribs of bone, and had the lefts in our pockets so there wouldn’t be any traces of us.

We made it to the suspects room, and checked through photographs (trying to find children pornography there), as we heard the family coming home. We paniced and hid. I hid in the teenager of the family’s room. After a while, this teenagers step into the room. First, he stared at me. Then he stared at my flashing shoehorn. Then I knocked him over, screamed to the others to come, and ran down the stairs. Downstairs, by the door, we met the mother in the family, who asked who we were. “Thiefs” I answered. She shouted to her husband as we put on our clothes. We then stepped outside, cool as cucumbers, and went home.