Last night I had a dream that I was stealing from the Devil. I had a backdoor entrance to the vault where he stored all his treasures. I could come and go as I pleased. After stealing several prizes for myself and tucking them away for safekeeping, I began to feel pity for the Devil. After all, he had worked so hard to amass such a treasure trove of pleasure, indulgence, etc., and here I am stealing what I hadn’t earned. Guilt overwhelmed me. I thought to myself, Maybe I should turn myself in to the Devil? Maybe I should return what I have stolen and leave him alone? But, luckily, my good reason kicked in and informed me more wisely. Why should I care if I steal from a thief? In the end, I did nothing. I stood and watched the Devil pace around the antechamber to his vault. He paced from bookshelf to bookshelf, periodically scurrying across the floor with sudden flutterings of his feet. He was clearly looking for something. Eventually, the voyeurism must have bored me because I suddenly woke up. I couldn’t go back to sleep. Weird dream. What does it mean?