} And why not? You don't seem to have grasped the philosophical
} implications of omniscience. Knowing all things, the Oracle must, in a
} very real sense, actually *be* all things. This means that I am
} simultaneously a rabbit, a duck-billed platypus, a tyrannosaurus rex,
} an E Coli bacterium, a w**dch*ck, an 8-track tape player, a keyfob
} with a suggestive slogan, a packet of Marlboro extra lights, that
} thing for getting stones out of horses' hooves on a swiss army knife,
} and countless billions of other things.
} This, however, is not the cause of your odd dream. You have been
} queue-draining. When you act as an incarnation of the Oracle, a tiny
} piece of the Oracle's omniscient wisdom is transferred into your puny
} human mind at the same instant as the "askme" arrives in your inbox.
} Normally, this contains precisely sufficient wit and wisdom to give
} the perfect answer, but for questions of a particularly inane type,
} there may be a small surplus which dissipates naturally over the next
} few hours. This surplus can accumulate, however, if too many "askme"s
} are attempted in too short a time, particularly if the incarnation's
} answers are especially fatuous.
} The result is a very mild case of residual prescience, and in your
} case this has allowed you to see dimly into your own future, to your
} next life, where you are slated to be a rabbit on the Argentinian
} But don't worry! You're going to love it! You're going to have much
} more sex than you've had in your human life (OK, that's not too hard,
} I know, but believe me, you're going to have *lots* of sex as a
} rabbit). Food is really easy to find, and quite delicious, and you'll
} never have to shave *anywhere*. And anyway, it's not going to happen
} for, oh, weeks yet.
} I'd pass on the eating-your-own-droppings bit, though, if I were you.
} You owe the Oracle a bunny-hug.