Oh, so the dreams should feature EA members and not just be dreams by EA members. Well, if it were the latter I would recount the dream I had last night:I discovered a crack in a wall of my house that led to a large space, larger than any known rooms. In this space there was I stray dog, which I adopted.I named him Stickbert Flanagan.

I was at Thundersnow at the beginning of Friday night when everyone was showing up at the Terrace Bay bar, hanging out and having drinks with people. FMs Steve and Bob Weston arrived, and they were both wearing thanksgiving pilgrim outfits with the buckled hat and pantaloons and everything.

In India on a business trip. Checking out of the hotel I get in a fight with a non-Indian kid, who pulls a tiny gun on me. I beat him up and take it away. I'm in a humongous mall, bigger than anything I've ever seen. Escalators connect everywhere, and the stores inside are also huge. Driving down the highway with an old friend, (who disappeared years ago after getting caught cheating on his fiance) in a Geo Metro hatchback, I hear a big bump and we look back and my drum kit fell out the back and is in splinters along the highway. I was trying to put it back in the car when my son woke me up.

So in this one I was talking to a couple dudes about a band we were thinking of starting. I had very specific ideas about some screechy guitar tone that I figured should be central to the whole thing. I kept demonstrating all these one second long riffs and going "See? SEE?" and this conversation morphed into me starting a thread here about specific effects units and amps and so forth.In my thread, a particular forum member given to long-winded and wildly digressive replies made some throwaway comment about how a certain brand of bread-crumbed chicken snack was "complete trash, basically just throwing your money away, a total perversion of the principles of human nutrition" and etc.Then a passing online marketing professional tasked with promoting fast-moving consumer goods finds my thread and flips out. He takes the FM in question to task for being too cheap to pay for the snack, and, simultaneously, too much of an elite to understand the appeal the product has with the wider community. Before long, the marketer has an army of sock-puppet accounts posting all over the board, starting new C/NC threads, posting some pretty vindictive memes against anybody who dares question their motives.Dream concluded with the announcement that marketer had fought his own bosses to arrange for the release of a "limited edition" chicken nugget product that would be available exclusively in my postcode. He was halfway through presenting this as a "victory for the little guys" when I woke up.

small talk wrote:....Are you sure you weren't just reading the forum?

I dreamt FM BadComrade was in my house in the middle of the night. I says to him "what are you doing here?" and he says "I'm haunting your house, dude." So I says, "so are you dead and this is your ghost?" and he says, "no, man, I'm alive, this is just my life force in a ghost form, my body is somewhere else, probably sleeping or something. I don't know, I've never done this before. Nice place you got here by the way." So I says, "cool, glad your not dead. but could you maybe go haunt someone else or maybe have a seat on the couch doing something quiet until you un-ghost yourself, because I'm trying to sleep and you're scaring the cat".

Weird enough dream last night that it's bringing me out of "hiding." And I never dream about youse people, and I think I've met Don'tffeartheringo exactly once for a handshake at one the BBQs - and that was it. Unless I met him somewhere along the line back in the day.In the dream, I'm aware of a gig I'm involved in that's about to take place, but first we have to go help the other drummer get his gear to wherever the venue is. It's DFTR. His gear is stored in a warehouse just inside the loading dock, he says.In the warehouse, a small pickup truck with a camper back drives up a succession of cars and boxes and equipment stacked almost to the ceiling, which is about 30 feet. It comes to a stop atop another vehicle, the roof of which is formed to perfectly accept the wheels and chassis of the aforementioned vehicle.Anyway, I'm thinking, "Whoa, there's something you don't see every day," and DFTR comes up and says "OK, my stuff's all ready, we just have to get it out of my space. His space is behind a small panel cut into the wall up about 20 feet from the floor with no stairs leading to it.He throws a ladder up there, but suddenly there's a platform to stand on just below the panel, as I somehow have a adapted the dream to make it feasible to extract gear from this inconvenient location. So DFTR starts handing down crates of drum hardware and gear. "Careful with the drinks, Mike," he says. There are various coctails and chilled bottles of beer randomly placed in the crates along with the kick drum pedals, sticks and whatnot. I'm trying to carry these things wondering about the room behind the panel, wondering why he has packed drinks loosely into his gear crates, and that's about as much as I remember.That's it.

my wife told me about a dream she had last night where our downstairs neighbor had turned into a big marshmallow man and he was asking her if it was ok to open a school in his apartment to teach kids how to vape.

Dream last night in which kerble was visiting Pittsburgh. He'd acquired a motorcycle, and its horn played the Kiss from a Rose melody, which he demonstrated repeatedly.

FM andteater sent a text that read "WINNING," and then "Going to Pasalacqua" by Green Day started playing.