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Only those who have lost everything in life know the secret - the stock market works at night too

I dreamed that the Messiah arrives - and doesn't understand why the house didn't experience what happened to the book. Why didn't the Temple experience what happened to the Bible? And he climbs onto the scaffolding and delivers a whole lecture to the road about the printing revolution: Thousands of years have passed, how can it be that the biggest expenses are still on roads and housing? And these are also the s-l-o-w-e-s-t investments, inexplicably lagging behind all other technologies. Are the materials so expensive? Why does a house, a technological product from the Stone Age, cost a thousand times more than a computer, a product a thousand times more technologically advanced? The answer is in the question. The construction field hasn't even gone through the industrial revolution, hasn't implemented mass production techniques, and remains in manual production, unlike books and printed circuits and countless printed newspapers, not to mention posters about the Messiah's arrival next week. If it were possible to print a structure or road from an architect's file in a 3D printer of plastic and concrete and metal and asphalt... If it were possible to order a house online from a selection of models of standard, industrial quality, without chasing after a contractor who will chase after workers who will end up doing the waterproofing poorly with a leak above the bed. A mobile printer the size of a truck could change the way we build the world.

Therefore, I tell my wife, when the Messiah approaches, you don't need to work like a donkey - and you don't need a house. Why invest in the technology of the past, in crude matter, when you can invest in the printed thing, in the writing revolution of matter - in money? Here, the stock market is already buzzing, even at night, a 1000% rise... Good thing I invested in the dream stock. And good thing we didn't lose all the wedding money - in the dream. And my wife tearfully says: If I've come this far, it's only because I love you. And finally silence - connecting lips more than a kiss. And I try to hug her tightly, and think. It's not fun to wake up when you're dead, and discover that you didn't really love.

0

I dreamed that I was poor, and I don't understand how a poor person is as important as a dead person - but I'm still alive. And it's not just me, there are poor people living like garbage in all the streets. Apparently, they're not really worth exactly zero. Even garbage isn't worth exactly zero, you can burn it and warm yourself by its light, or find treasures in it, royal feasts, materials for dreams... Who knows better than me. And I start getting rid of everything worth even a fraction of a penny. With clothes it's easy, then I pull out my teeth, the hair has already fallen out, I sell my kidneys, corneas in my eyes, blood, everything. And I don't understand - how is this not enough, what else can be in a person? Apparently, even my mental abilities have some value. And I work for years to lose them all like a donkey, and each time I discover another one. How hard it is to forget everything I've learned, to forget how to write, to forget how to walk, to forget how to eat, to forget how to sleep...

Until one morning I find myself in paradise. Finally worth as much as a dead person, only the soul remains! But the garden - completely empty. And I wander among the trees and call out: Hello, is there anyone here in heaven? Make a sound? And I walk for days in the forest, which has already turned into a wild jungle, absolute silence. Not a living soul. Even the holy animals have gone extinct. And here you can see a distant house in the forest, and another house, and another, but the houses - all empty. A whole city empty of righteous people. And I find myself in a huge metropolis - and abandoned. And suddenly distant distant shouts are heard. Maybe that's the center? The study hall of the heavenly yeshiva? And I start running through the streets and the voices turn into screams (what are they arguing about?): 115, 115. No no, 116! 116! Now 116. Yes, blessed be the Name, it rose to 117! Jumping to 117, 117, God! And I see a huge shining tower, with letters of sanctification of the moon written at its top: Stock Exchange for Righteous Souls*. And I look down at the asterisk, it's really at floor level, and it's written there in tiny Rashi script: All you need to do is buy the souls when they go down - and sell when they go up.

And I discover that all the righteous in paradise aren't studying Torah at all, they've long since come down from the trees, and they're all day just dealing with money money money. And the great geniuses, all the giants of all generations, manage the entire creation with the help of legendary huge wealth, inhuman sums, dubious deals passing from hand to hand of monstrous value. And financial empires of imaginary, dreamlike, inconceivable size try to destroy each other, a real jungle: a strange alliance of Rashi, Rabbi Nachman of Breslov and the prophet Jeremiah completes a hostile takeover of the Raavad who collapses Maimonides Ltd. who is forced to sell Abaye to an unknown group of Acharonim [later rabbinic authorities], and the dormant stock skeleton of Joseph the Righteous jumps in one day by thousands of percent without notice (insider information?). And one enthusiastic speculator, a newly religious convert, tells me: Look how the Other Side always buys Jewish souls when they're at the bottom, when they're worth nothing, and sells when they're at their peak. So what, you and I can't? And how is he not afraid, he opens a short on famous righteous people, whom he thinks will fall. And when they fall he makes such a killing! And the graph goes up, he rubs his hands, and the graph goes down, he rubs his hands, it's an abnormal investment, an investment that will rise to infinity... And in contrast, a minor and disgruntled righteous man, who lost his beard including one of the sidelocks, snickers at me: Pffft, how much money! Do you have any idea what they really make it from? He trembles with rage, and looks completely ridiculous with his single sidelock, which swings wildly from side to side like a tail that has gone out of its owner's control: Does the trading seem real to you? Do you know how much it costs to operate the sun for an hour? Do you believe in this show? All these "righteous" people, who bet on investments in twisted ideas, and they still profit! And they don't even shy away from bribing angels. The really big organizations, which don't tell what they're engaged in with limited liability, have connections in the upper world itself, behind the curtain, and they pay protection, and the angels are already powerless, completely impoverished, and serve as errand boys, one-legged pawns in the rigged game of the giant righteous who have taken over the business, forces you don't want to know about. My advice: You have no chance. Run away from here while you still can.

And I return to the forest, and know that only one tree will save me, but how do you find it among all the trees? There's only one solution - to taste from all the trees in the forest, one after another. And I eat and eat all day, and fatten and grow, and become completely round, barely passing through the trees and rolling on, until one night I hear rustlings between the trees. And I see Abraham bribing the angel to stop the binding of his son, and I can't hold back anymore and come out of the thicket: Abraham, Abraham! How are you not ashamed, how low can you stoop? And Abraham our father, who is wrapped in garments worth a billion dollars, instead of being ashamed launches into a fiery argument: This is low? Who are you to disrespect money, aren't you ashamed to desecrate the holy money?!
- But righteous one, it's just a piece of paper. Dead wood. The most material thing there is. You've fallen into the lust for money, our father!
And the father of the nation slaughters me on the spot without ceremony: What, insolent one, what kind of criminal are you? What kind of sin that's not written in the Torah. To turn the highest thing into the lowest thing? The delicate spiritual feeling of love of money into a crude desire? Money is the spiritual partner of the human soul, the union of its soul. Matter is only one side - of the coin... Behind the angel elegantly slipped away from the scene, while Abraham swayed in an impassioned sermon: You new generations don't understand anything. Why do righteous people love their money more than their bodies? Have you ever opened the book of Genesis? We the forefathers were all tycoons. And Joseph? Invests the money. Where does the word "invest" [mashkia in Hebrew] come from? Sinks into the ground. The money tree - that's the tree! We Jews don't work, except for the Holy One, blessed be He, we don't dirty our hands, we only lend with interest, make money from money. Because for us money is a pure thing, beautiful, spiritual, and therefore like the Torah it can multiply by itself, unlike matter which is subject to conservation laws. Where does the word "interest" [ribit in Hebrew] come from? The foundation of the Jewish home and marriage: Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth.
- When was the last time you were in the Land [of Israel]?
- Ah, the Jews of today. You didn't learn anything in the previous world? Didn't you see how a miser imprisons money in a safe like matter - poor money, single and childless. And how a spendthrift scatters money to all winds - sinful money, abandoned and corrupt. But the investor matches the money, marries it! Know, child, that the righteous person gives money a soul, invests the soul in an idea, and the holy money gives the idea a body, realizes it, and thus both are partners with the Creator, possessor of heaven and earth. What do you understand about love, where do you think the word "money" [kesef in Hebrew] comes from? Longing, yearning, desire. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife and all that belongs to your neighbor. That is, your own you shall covet indeed! What do you understand about marriage, have you ever thought where the word "husband" [ba'al in Hebrew] comes from?! My son, you have no idea what doors in the upper worlds money opens, what knowledge a person can buy. Come, I'll teach you the secrets of the stock market. I simply pity you, son.
- Me?
- What do you have as initial capital?
- Nothing.
- Don't be afraid, I'll help you get started, from a small drop we'll make you a great nation.
- I have nothing, really.
- Don't be ashamed my son, I started like you, come on, there must be something!
I look at him with a round gaze.
- What, are you a real zero, a complete zero?
He digests, and his eyes widen: Do you know what a shortage of zeros we have here? What quantity of zeros are in every number running around here? Come here, you zero! And he puts me into some sum, with another zero, and another zero, and thousands more zeros like me, thousands upon thousands, no one can count them, and who even knows if after all those millions of zeros - there's a one?

The Decline of Generations

I dreamed that I don't know how to get out of this. My wife is everywhere that's not the shower. And I took the computer to the toilet at night, hid it in a bag that I hid in a backpack that I hid in a shirt that I hid in a suit, and left the house. And I walked to the edge of the houses, and burst into a dance in all sorts of directions with intentions and unifications, with my head deep inside the bag, and outside you can't see the light. They say there's a very unique angle there, where you can pick up that monster - internet. The only point in the neighborhood. But here I'm actually picking up a rustle in the dark forest, in the middle of the night, and I get scared and take my head out of the bag and collide with some huge Torah scholar - and let out a scream. And this giant dinosaur takes his huge head out of the bag, along with a computer from the Biblical era, and tries to calm me down: Don't worry, nothing will happen, we won't tell anyone!
- Rabbi?
- There's no need to hide. Because what history hid is that Judaism is actually a strong religion, and therefore in the titanic struggle between the kingdoms it's not that the network will destroy the Divine Presence, but that it will yet spread it. The internet will be the new Divine Presence - the worthy partner for the Holy One, blessed be He, and therefore we need a new type of righteous person - the internet tzaddik. And I understand that he really read a lot of things on the internet and ask: Are you managing to connect? But the prophet of the black internet ignores and continues to proclaim to the single disciple captive in his congregation, who was caught red-handed at the hot spot: The network is the sefirah of Malchut [Kingdom], that is, the female sefirah, of the Messianic era - and this is exactly the reason why the woman is jealous of our connection with the network, and we are forced to hide here. And I ask: Have you ever met my wife? And the herald says: Maybe in the future. That is, maybe in the past. I tell you, if there will be a new Hasidism of the internet, within 20 years the Jewish world will come back to life! And I crave mockery and ask seriously: And you, of course, are a prophet?
- Yes, that is, in my time they call prophets time travelers backwards. This field is very popular among Jews, after they proved that there was no Mount Sinai event, we had to travel back in time and make sure there was! That's how we saved the truth of the Torah and ultra-Orthodox Judaism. It was the biggest project in divine service since Moses.
- And are you here to fake the Mount Sinai event or the coming of the Messiah?
- No, unfortunately. They sent me from the time of destruction, that is, the destruction in the future, that is, the first was called destruction, the second Holocaust, the third annihilation, and then they somehow somehow managed to recover, but in my time the fourth was already the end of Judaism: the disappearance. And I'm here to stop it in time, when it's still small.
And I continue to mock him: But if the "disappearance" disappears, you'll disappear too, as much as you are, excuse me, healthy and corpulent, because they won't send you back in time.
- Exactly, the goal is for me to disappear. As long as I'm here you can know that the next Holocaust is coming.
And I ask the dinosaur before he disappears on me if he happens to remember any stock that skyrocketed in the coming year?
- What, is that what you're asking me? The prophet from the future?
- Maybe some invention that made billions in the early 21st century?
- What the hell do you think I am?
- Some economic, technological, military development, something, from our time?
- Sorry, history is not me. I didn't listen to the teacher in class.
- But isn't there any field you were interested in and know what happened in my time, something? We'll already find a way to make money from it!
- I'm interested in philosophy.
- Philosophy?! What did you even do there in the future?
- I ate, like a dinosaur. Listen, it was a reverse Holocaust, of food. Before that I was skin and bones and that's why I survived last.
- What. But disappearing, how is that related?
And he grabs his chin and says in a very important voice, as if you can take a dinosaur with a beard seriously: That's exactly it, everything is connected! Philosophy gives the essence of the direction of the spirit, and you can profit from it, know where to put a sail. In my day it's a sought-after profession. After all, all things go together. If you only knew at the beginning of the 20th century what role language would play, in all fields, in every field you could have been a pioneer. And the place that language took in the 20th century, will be taken in the 21st century - by learning.
- Learning, huh? Why learning specifically? You mean Torah study!
- It's not learning as you understand it, like learning material from a teacher or a book. It's learning within the system, not from outside.
- System?
- You really don't understand what I'm saying? He's embarrassed, scratches his chin, one of dozens of chins, looks like he's flipping through them, although it's hard to see what's happening in there inside the beard. And he says: Well look, maybe the generation isn't ready for such ideas yet... And maybe you're actually the dinosaur? So for you, listen, it's not such an important period, I was busy dreaming in class, you're considered a kind of early Middle Ages. It's a good time for wars, religions, barbarization and pornography and barbarigraphy, among other curses and diseases, not for abstract thinking. And that's how the future of philosophy looks, that is, the future of the spirit in your time. Although, of course, I'm not allowed to say anything that will reveal something understandable to you - that you'll really understand, except in hindsight. That's the nature of the darkness of time, and the evolution of the spirit, and the physics of the development of metaphysics, and the neurology of dreaming, and learning - within the system.
And a moment before he is swallowed and disappears into the darkness of time, or into something else that is incomprehensible from the start, he still manages to reveal in our world one last secret: The philosophy of language will be replaced by the philosophy of teeth, and the philosophy of speech - by the philosophy of the abyss.

The House Spider

I dreamed that after that, he had insomnia. In the dark he would hear the root of his soul calling him, traitor, traitor, why didn't you continue to search for me and got married? And he would ask her in the dark: Who's the traitor, me or you. Where were you all the years when I was looking for you. Where were you all the years? And then he would feel that the root of his soul was moving inside him, and whispering: It's not a root, it's a snake's tail. His wife would wake up and he said she just had a bad dream, and there was complete silence. And when he arrived in paradise he declared I knew it, I'm simply not a paradise person, so they sent him to hell. At the entrance he started kissing the mezuzahs, but they had abominable images of lips. He declared that he wasn't willing to enter without a kosher mezuzah, ugh! They told him that if he was so righteous then he should quickly go back down. Over the years he became so rotten, the stench of God rose from his mouth, and all the time he would declare to himself: You have no idea who I really am.

Attempt at Fluttering

I dreamed that I'm an angel. And my wife apologizes to me for all the times she told me I'm far from being an angel. And I start flying in the skies in all directions, yoohoo! Flying from world to world, entering all the holes, and suddenly - ahhh - I'm caught in a web. And I come to free myself, it seems I'm barely tied, but the beautiful butterfly next to me begs: No! The more you flutter the faster the holy spider will come.
- Holy?
- Yes, in the Messianic era even the insects are angels, cockroaches are spirituality, every flea reads the holy Zohar, every tick sucks pleasure from the Sabbath Queen, and look - look at yourself. And since the Messiah arrived, words of Torah that come out of the mouth are no longer air, but liquid and sticky, and righteous people weave nets from them in the most forgotten corners of the heavens, and tempt intellectual grasshoppers, lost angels, or just flying ultra-Orthodox - to get caught.
And I look at the curved contours that are hidden with such skilled modesty, and peek at the antennae hidden in stockings, and ask: So what's a wise and wonderful creature like you doing in a place like this? And the little butterfly sighs: Everyone thinks it's so wonderful to be a butterfly. But I'm just a cockroach with wings. And from all our talking the holy spider arrives, and this silk yeshiva student starts wrapping me in mouth tefillin straps, and I beg: Listen don't kill me. I've entered all the corners in the heavens, holes that regular guys don't dream of, the darkest materials. I know a lot! And he continues to mumble around me and wrap me in a tallit, and I call out: I know about rape in paradise! And he continues to babble verses of justification of judgment, and I confess: I know about murder in paradise! But he's not impressed, and I whisper: I can tell you something I didn't even tell my wife. Something that God himself doesn't know. And I see that the spider slows down a bit in his prayer, and I start pouring out vigorously:

When I was a young angel, in short, I learned the ABC's of the world, I learned that after righteous [tzadik in Hebrew] always comes monkey [kof], and after them comes the tail [zanav] - net [reshet], do you understand the development happening in the world? And my teacher, I had a private tutor, you understand, I'm not just any angel! So are you listening? This teacher started talking to me about the tail of history that comes after the end of history, where the tail of time and the tail of space meet, or something like that. And as a child it made me laugh, that after the world ends - the world has a tail. But the teacher said: Only the heretics denied that the world has a tail. At first they claimed that the Earth was round, then they claimed that the universe was round, and the atom was round, and finally that the point itself was round. There was even someone who claimed that the shtreimel [fur hat worn by some Hasidic Jews] was round. And I tell you - not without a tail. And that's how I started looking for the tail of the world. At first I went further and further back, which is the direction of the tail, to some overtime before creation. But then I understood that the world was created backwards, that it actually started from the head, in the beginning [bereishit in Hebrew], and the tail is actually in the future, and I started moving further and further forward. And finally after years of absence from the world and from daily life, after I was already considered dead, I found it. At first it looked like just a tree, coming out of the ground. But then you look up up and you see there are no branches, no treetop - and no sky, it simply doesn't end. And because all directions look the same from there, you have to be very careful not to get lost. If you start walking down from the tail you can reach places you don't want to reach... And at first I was afraid to climb the tail, but in the end there's nowhere else to go, and I started climbing. And very quickly I got much higher than I thought, and I thought I was just stupid before, here we're almost reaching the top, the final end, and we'll see what's hiding there. And suddenly I see them from afar like a kind of background noise. And I say to myself what's this familiar buzzing, and try to slide down quickly, but it's too late, they're here - black stinking and flying with a thousand eyes and buzzing tunes of the third Sabbath meal, oh no, flies from the Hasidic gathering! And this huge tail starts lashing, going wild, and they fly around it and make fun of it, and it just gets angrier, goes crazy, and I hold on tight with my nails but it doesn't help and I fly out of the world.

But the spider wasn't impressed at all by the story, he's busy in his babbling and wraps me in boring and congealed words of Torah from all directions. And he carries me to their camp in a clearing that remained from paradise. After the destruction in the heights the survivors from paradise who survived in the forests turned into human animals. Souls that eat spirits, righteous people who hunt holy animals and holy animals that devour righteous people, groups of angels that deteriorated all the way to hell, God preserve us. But as soon as I arrive I immediately breathe a sigh of relief. Ultra-Orthodox. Rabbis. Sextons. Beggars. The faithful of Israel. And then I see the Sabbath songs they sing around, the terrible drumming on the huge cholent pots, and the huge pot they prepared on the hot plate, and I start shouting that they might stumble into forbidden foods, that I'm not kosher. And the righteous man says: How not kosher, my holy one? An angel like you... It's not written anywhere that it's forbidden to eat angels.
- But it's forbidden to eat without blessing! What blessing do you say over angels?
And I cook and cook and turn into seraph, and it seems that time passes slower and slower, and the righteous man who takes me out is already very old, all white and full of mercy, I haven't seen him for jubilees and eras, and even if the end of the world hasn't finally arrived - at least the end of time has arrived. And he takes the fork, sticks it in my eye, and says: Blessed is He who revives the dead.

A Woman Makes Death

I dreamed that I arrived in heaven and was seated before a court of three great rabbis of the world. And they argued and argued, and it seemed that I was much less interesting to them than the argument. And suddenly they ruled as one that they should bring my wife to testify. And they killed her too and brought her to testify. And she started crying that she died because of me and she's not willing and it's not right and it can't be and she won't be quiet. And they asked me what I did to deserve such a wife, I must be a great sinner, if she makes my life miserable [literally: makes death for me]. This must really do it for you, huh? And that if I wasn't guilty I would have nothing to hide and nothing to hide from. And I answered that I'm immediately converting to Christianity and not willing for them to judge me, because they weren't married to my wife, and that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit should judge me, because at least in Christianity they made sure God had a family while in Judaism they left him in the end alone an aging bachelor and it's no wonder he's a little, and then I rotated my finger, his head spun. And I could have maybe been the father of the Messiah and didn't realize my potential. And they had a big big shtreimel that has room for three heads and they went inside it for consultation. And I started protesting outside: Private consultation, huh? And my beloved wife also started shouting and getting angry: Corrupt ones, we're sick of you, run over every religious person! And the shtreimel started spinning and spinning like a black tire and they started dancing faster and faster, in insane centrifugal acceleration, and all the foxes start flying out of the shtreimel in all directions and from so much frenzy sparks come out and the foxes run with tails of fire in all the trees in the garden, and I signaled to my wife and each of us grabbed one of the pillars of the gates of paradise and we pushed with all our might and I whispered: Let me die with my wife [paraphrasing Samson's last words].

The Book of Faces

I dreamed that I'm trying to be accepted to some secret unit of Kabbalists, whose name I don't even know. And they write to me that first of all before I contact them, I should contact God. Where? On Facebook. Where everyone is a Kabbalist. But how will I find him in the sea of fictitious profiles, when everyone calls himself by one of the seventy names of God? And I think that one of the angels is enough, even the most junior, one who's bored and opened Facebook to hit on human girls - and from the friends of the friends of his friends I'll already reach God. And I try the most esoteric names of angels, it will be easiest to recruit one of those who messed up, who fell from grace, those who were "wronged". Whoever cheats on his wife will also betray God. And finally I find one that seems suitable to me, Mematron - angel of sprinklers, an angel whose entire responsibility is to turn on the sprinklers in the morning in the Garden of Eden. Who knows what he did to get to this position. And I see someone without a face, who has no friends, doesn't even have a gender. This is probably just a bored girl. And I pretend to be a married ultra-Orthodox woman, I know this turns on such angels. Worth checking.

And this pathetic one writes to me that he's here on the network on duty, that he's doing research. Yeah, sure. And he invents some cover story as if he's some agent of the secret doctrine, and his mission here is to fix the network of faces according to the Kabbalah of the Ari. And he starts talking about how even God now has a network face. They increased the resolution on the garments so much that you can already see the strings from which the fabric of the universe is made. And here, it didn't take much, all I need is to be the first, the one who starts criticizing God - what a hard life he makes for women, what a hard life he makes for the ultra-Orthodox - and the dirty angel already feels too comfortable, and opens up to badmouth the boss: Something about him is different, they say he's changed. He has such an automatic face, and he behaves like a robot, judges people like a computer, and leads the universe like a spaceship. And this angel of course wants to meet me in real life. But he doesn't want to come to me, but for me to come to him - to paradise.

And I disguise myself as my wife, and he gives me a password to the upper network. And I wear my wife's most beautiful wig, take a picture of it from behind and call myself the flowing blonde wig, and start surfing with it on the upper social network. And on this network you don't see faces, on the contrary, only back, they jokingly call it "bottle", and say that in the world of truth every person is a lonely island. And even from behind these angels are so modest, they all wear white headscarves over white wigs of the attribute of judgment, with neck guards for a stiff-necked people, and the wings are covered in plastic wrappings, and I wonder if they ever opened them, and if they're not actually atrophied. But if there are no female angels, I don't understand why male angels don't go naked, like animals? Or is the purpose of the coverings to hide them from women? And the priests sit in a special farm of priests in paradise, and all the time maintain and program the network, with some technological prophets providing them guidance. And these annoying prophets don't stop talking about visions, dreams, and other professional terms, walking around in this chicken coop like roosters, and developing all sorts of prophecies among themselves that are kept secret. Although in the end all these technologies, even the most secret ones, leak down. No one has yet found a hermetic way to block what happens when two circuits like a human brain and an angel's mind get too close - what the prophets call inspiration. And these prophets are so boastful that it's very easy to get them talking. Each of them is at least God's deputy, if not his replacement in his absence. And I sit with three of the more enthusiastic ones, Ezek.o.el, Jeremi-ahu! and Isaiah 2.0, versions a bit too updated for my taste, but my artificial hair doesn't attract them. They're busy with the real thing - the triple thread:

They divide the new world among themselves. First there was the network of content, of the Torah of Israel, 1.0. Then the social network, of the people of Israel, 2.0. And finally also the spatial network of location and the real world, the Land of Israel. And they also divide among themselves the prophecies of destruction of the network: First there was the Enlightenment, the Holocaust of the Torah of Israel. Then the Holocaust of the people of Israel. And finally will come the Holocaust of the Land of Israel. And they even decide on a collaboration: They will turn the three networks into one triple network, 3.0, for to you I have given the land to inherit it [a play on words in Hebrew between "inherit" and "network"].

But only now do I notice that I completely forgot about the angel Mematron, who let me in, and who sent me a thousand messages, and is pestering me on messenger. Urgent. Are you there? Are you awake? Are you alive? Be careful not to reach the black part of the network, the Other Side, it suddenly connects, it's not like you're used to. There are lots of insects in the computer, cockroaches, bugs, worms, and even the network itself, where do you think it comes from? Be careful of connections, of spiders, of phishing, of thrills, of groping, and in general of people - who are not angels. Or of angels who aren't mentioned in the holy books. I'm worried about you, you must have personal guidance. Close. You know, they once asked God why he walks around with high shoes in the Garden of Eden. And he said: Because of the snakes. And I ask him: And how do I know that you yourself are not the evil inclination, a snake or a spider? I'm not stupid. And maybe you're an ultra-Orthodox Jew pretending to be an angel - to hit on an ultra-Orthodox Jew pretending to be a woman?

The Triangle Inequality

I dreamed that I was Haman the Wicked, and my wife keeps saying to me: They'll hang you, they'll hang you, in the end they'll discover and catch and hang you. And I say to her: Ya Zeresh, the end will be that in order not to hear you I'll fold my ears and put poppy seeds in them. And I don't hear anything anymore, but I say: Every day is Purim and every night is Purim. How long can one dress up? I warned, I alerted the king, but they didn't listen to me. So where's the tree?

There's something dirty about Queen Esther, I'm telling you Ahasuerus. There's something ugly in silence, and when they want you to think from the head. You're sleeping with Mordechai, aren't you?

Service of God

I dreamed that you should ask him for one toilet paper, what, we're left with nothing. And when she's not home open! A profile! Of a woman! And chat with all the men on the site, not one left. And understand how they look at you, from what advantage, from what intoxication. And power corrupts. A monkey in a cage - that's fun. Because it's also a monkey. And also in a cage. He can't do anything to you beyond the screen, and you can make him dance like a monkey, because he'll do everything for you. He'll work for you just because you have a woman's name. He'll tell you his most intimate secrets and his most hidden dreams - just because you write in feminine language, and he can imagine and dream that someone is interested in who he is. The unfair gift that God gave to women - is the proof that God is a man. And the poor, pathetic ultra-Orthodox man on the other side of the keyboard, looking to dispel nightly loneliness, writes to me: From her side, isn't she cheating on me with the man of her life - God? Only a man can truly be a servant of God. In women's relationship to God there's always an aspect of incest, and therefore of idolatry. But why is a secular woman like you interested in the service of God?

Dating Site for Women

I dreamed that I finished working all day and I have no energy for anything, except to continue working. So I take the work into the dream. And it actually succeeds, I work hard all night, and solve things, and solve things, and write many detailed dreams, only in the morning I wake up, open the computer - and everything everything is deleted. So the next night I say I won't fall asleep. And my wife has been asleep for a long time. And a black one comes to me. And tells me that they're completely sucking my wife, and that the blood, don't underestimate the blood, the blood is the soul, and there are, there are, there are also soul mosquitoes. And I think what would happen if I had married someone else. Someone with a soul. My wife is strong in the blood department. But what about the soul? And the black one comes to me and touches me. And I chase him away. And he says don't worry you'll still fall asleep while I don't sleep. And I fly from person to person, and I can reveal to you where the blood is. This is the first period in human history when you can pretend to be a lesbian, and talk to another woman who's interested in you. Or at least in the woman inside you. You can send her what you really write. And she'll be excited! And she'll want to sleep with you, and she'll think about you today at work. Oh sweetie. And she'll pant, and share, with you her dreams, at night, she wants so much, she's so attractive, and so repulsive. Why don't you agree to meet me? And the imagination will work, overtime, and the breaths, feel the breaths are real. How can it be. Why suddenly you're not answering? I can't believe it. That you, you, you! Disappeared. I won't let you slip away. No hands. No wings. Just blood! I'm not falling asleep. I love. Yes, I'm writing that I love, yes it's strange, but I feel, please. Destroying my faith. In human beings. It's not just. You're the most fascinating creature, the most mysterious, the closest soul in the world. And we've never met. I'm black, I'm black as black, I'm the darkness that wraps the white screen. The silence. The terror of peeking in the dark and seeing if she's looking. If she's not asleep. And I'm tired and I'm tired and so much and caution. And carelessness. And I'm killed. And I'm killed. And I don't care anymore what, more than that, how! I write. Criminal lack of anxiety. And I'm black. And I fly. And I can bore you to death but I prefer to bore you so you'll fall asleep. And he wins. My head drops on the computer. Last thought: If blood is the soul, then the soul is blood. And the black one comes.

Her

I dreamed that it's forbidden to breathe on Shabbat. Because its spirituality is too high for our soul. And I breathe on Shabbat. And it's a gas chamber. And I'm really angry that in my last moment I suddenly think of you - and not of my wife. And my soul blossoms. I hate Holocaust survivors.

Her

I dreamed that we met after many years, sober, reconciled, strangers. I tried to ask how life had been. And she answered what do you expect, what answer could there be to such a question. Abroad. If I'm buried next to her, there's a chance that the same worm will eat us both. There's nothing more intimate than that. Never. No. Too late.

Her

I dreamed that I'm talking to S', but can't remember what she looked like. What color eyes. I don't have any picture. You understand, that's the thing about the straw. Sometimes, when everything is crashing around, you need something to hold onto. And the more everything breaks, the tighter you hold onto it. And if it also breaks, then something no longer breaks in a person. But in the world.