A sign that I have spent too much time on reading Apple Fritter...

First, a disclaimer:
This post is in no way intended to insult anyone mentioned herein, nor is it intended to portray an accurate image of what is wrong inside of my head. Rather it is an anecdotal tale of a dream I had (for unknown reasons) which was rooted directly in postings I have read on this site. Consider it a fable.

Second, I have no real vices, short of the occasional beer/wine and felt fine when I went to bed last night, so why I dreamed this is a mystery to me as well. I just hope you find it somehow as entertaining as I did.

In order for this post to make any sense, you must first read the post about the scammer getting scammed (make sure you read the entirety of the link):

link

My story pics up with me finding myself transplanted magically from Florida (USA) to bright, sunny (ha-ha) London. I find my self driving around the area with a complete printout of the thread referred to above, looking for the barber shop. When I find it, it is not as much of a hole-in-the-wall as I had imagined, and the internet 'area' on the ground level is some 3 times bigger than the barber area is. I park my rental car at the end of the block.

Note here that it is a light blue Mercury Sable wagon circa '89 and it is a left-hand drive, vice the right-hand drives commonly found in UK. I am keenly aware as I drive that I am on the right (albeit incorrect) side of the road.

Parking is much more abundant than I envisioned from reading the thread. The day is pleasant and the weather fair, with a slight hint it might rain. I walk up the sidewalk, trying to not look too obvious as I check the place out, hoping to find a nerve enough to step into the internet area and blend in. As I walk back down the walk, still uncertain of my next move, I woman calls out to me from the window. She is about 5'8" and slender with short, dark auburn hair. She is in her late 20's and pleasant in disposition as she calls me out by name. To my great shock and dismay, this woman knows me on sight.

"Oh crap" I think, I will blow the whole thing and all the folks waiting to see the package arrive will be let down. I will be eulogized on the very thread that brought me here as the one who blew it all. She comes out to talk to me and I sputter out "how do you know me?"

"From AppleFritter" she replies. This strikes me as odd since I have never (at least not yet) posted any pictures of myself nor given any real description of myself. For some inane reason, I accept it and shrug off the mystery. She invites me back to her flat to discuss the surveillance strategy that she and others are putting into practice. The goal here was for me to help without messing up the plan. I come to sense that 90% of the people I saw in the cafe are part of this. Strange that the barber does not seem surprised at the sudden spike in his business from 10 or so regulars to 40 new face all in one week.

During the discussion in the woman's flat, located conveniently across the street at the far end of the alley, she reveals to me that she is Tom Owad. With great incredulance, I rebuke her. But she shows me a print out with her real name on it: Thomasina O'Wadalomer' (or something like that). She tells me how she wanted to use a pseudonym as her userid when she started the AppleFritter website (Yes! I realize that this is all crazy talk now, but in the dream it made perfect sense!). She tells me how she shortened her name to 'Tom Owad' to create an internet personality. She further blows me away by revealing that she found along the way the need for a separate internet personality besides 'Tom' and she based that name off of her favorite food: 9 layer cheesecake. The result was 'rael9' after she took '9layer', rearranged it, and dropped the y to make it less obvious.

As the explanations unfurl, my jaw remains wide open. I suddenly become aware of the drool on my neck and realize I am in a state of utter shock.

We talk some more and later leave to grab some fish and chips. One the way out, someone at the front of the building (which is now some sort of hotel vice the apartment building we entered) greets 'Thomasina' as Doctor Eroca (some variant of 'Erika' I guess). I look at her perplexed. " You're a doctor?"

"I will explain later", she said. We return later to the flat with the sought after fish and chips and the pints of ale we retrieved as well. They are served in some plastic cups, which to me is an affront since good beer is never served in anything other than a frozen Pilsner glass or frozen mug. This beer is Guinness, so the affront is profound.

The dream skips ahead to the next day. I remember that the package has already arrived by this point, and the many witnesses dispersed to the four corners. I do not have a vivid recollection of the event, but remember that I saw it happen. I am walking down the street next to the barber shop to retrieve my rental car. When I arrive (and the car is now a late 70's Ford Pinto, left-hand drive), I find the barber waiting for me. He is sitting on the ground next to my driver's door. He has a receipt in his hand for the duties he had to pay for the package. He looks annoyed. He spots me as soon as I walk up, and sees the keys in my hand. As mine is the only car around, I cannot pretend to just pass on by. He lets me know that he is upset and wants his money back.

I feel a little scared at this point as I do not know what to say. My attempt to feign ignorance does no good. He becomes agitated, but remains seated, blocking access to my car. All of my co-witnesses are gone. It is me and the barber. He wants his money and is only able to talk about the deception he endured, not the deception he committed. From the thread I had read, I had gotten the impression that the scammer was a regular at the cafe and would have been waiting to see the delivery come to the mailbox and intercept the driver at that point. I felt the barber was just being used as a front for the real guy. So how did the duties end-up getting paid by the barber?

My salvation finally came when my alarm woke me up. I felt a cold sweat on my sheets. It took me a minute to realize what had really happened and where truth and fiction overlapped, in the Twilight Zone.

--DDTM