Friday, December 4, 2009

Bike Dreams and other bits of my subconcious

It must have been the half jar of Nutella I ate before going to bed. I had some weird dreams. They started off with my car disappearing from what seemed like a legal space at Pike Place Market (where I would never drive), so I assumed it had been stolen. My friend lent me his cell phone to call 9-1-1 but the reception was so bad that the dispatcher couldn't hear me and hung up on me.

Then came the sad part; my Surly was gone from my bike room and, if that wasn't sad enough, here's the kicker- I thought to myself, "well, I'm not riding it anyway". My bikes are crying out to me after not being ridden for 3 months due to an injury (of mine, not the bikes, though they do need a little work) and my subconcious is hearing the call.

Then I was at the airport, ready to leave for Costa Rica and talking to the pilot (uh, were we having a drink together?). It was then that I realized that my plane ticket was the of paper variety and was in the car that was stolen. He winked at me and said he would let me on the plane without a ticket. And I imagined myself in a jungle, with no way to get back home.

I really need to find a better compliment to peanut butter than nutella.

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