I approve wholeheartedly of the technique to get instantaneously to any place by dreaming of it and waking up there. But it did land me in Copenhagen with no cash at all and only 50 euros in the bank (which, usefully, I could see on the screen of my mobile phone, green on black like an old Hercules monitor). And when I discovered that it could be done with a web page too, and demonstrated that to someone, I ended up outside Copenhagen on the site of a news item, in a field, without a computer or any other means to get back except my own feet. This made me arrive after midnight and miss the last train.
Fortunately, the nice woman at the post office let me have 1,50 euros to phone my mother (who, in waking reality, died ten years ago this month) in exchange for about a foot of sticky tape— I gave her the rest of the roll, too, because I had nothing to cut it with.
I could conceivably have taken a plane home —the post office had some on offer— but the 50 euros sort of precluded that. When looking at plane schedules and prices I realised that the man and woman behind the counter, who I had been conversing with in a mixture of their barely adequate English and my (realistically) very inadequate Danish, were actually speaking Dutch with one another; as were the various gaudily dressed fat middle-aged women in the street, obviously well-to-do tourists.
I did get back eventually— by waking up again.
