I went to the basketball game, I put the folder under my chair, and I sat there for the rest of the game, just as I was instructed. The folder didn’t explode, the folder didn’t gas the room, and by the time the game was over, it was gone. In its place was a small note, one with only one word typed on it, “received.”
I checked my bank account and, as promised, 2,000 dollars had been added to it. When I went to bed, I expected to find answers, and in a sense, I did. I wish I hadn’t.
I had a dream, a dream that felt as unquestionably real as the computer I’m typing this on. In the dream, I was standing in a dimly lit room made of metal and plastic There was one long desk along one wall, and along that desk were numerous men focused on their computers. I saw Dr 8 standing in front of me, and he said,
“A deal is a deal, so here’s how we contacted you.”
I then began to fly, passing through the ceiling, and several stories of earth, before rising from the ground in a forest. In front of me were a set of massive radio antennae, stretching into the sky with no top in sight. I could feel the impulses coming from those towers, and I knew that the signal they broadcast was how they brought the dream about, how they were telling this to me. I stood there, processing this information, and then I woke up.
Was this real? My sensible side is nagging at me for considering that this is real. For all I know, I could’ve imagined everything. I’m crazy, if that’s the case, but it is possible. However, the dreams aside, there is one thing that contradicts this story. Even if I hallucinated about those men and that envelope, even if these dreams are mere coincidence, even if I’m just in need of mental help, how do I still have that receipt?
Carter's Compendium 