The Parmesan Chicken Trip

Parmesan Chicken Trip!!

I’ve heard it before but never saw it on this wise. It was Parmesan chicken from Long Horn, my favorite. The baked bird was not the problem, the flight I took was. Oh my goodness, what a flight it was. I fell asleep and woke up with somehow Angelo, my mom, my sister and I under the same roof. It was something about a bicycle that we replaced small wheels in exchange for the flat regular sized ones. It was a journey too early in the morning to a house we owned across town. Angelo and I passed through too many difficult locked doors, nothing fancy like combinations but actually some pad locks and deadbolts that didn’t make sense any way.

Once outside, we took off with me riding the little bike and him walking. I thought I’d add, I have never even dreamed of Angelo since his death, let alone ride able while he is walking. As soon as our trip began, we noticed how dark and too early it was to be making a trip this far.

We decided to head by to our house that now looked more like a warehouse turned home. Angelo was discussing some shelving and drywall that I should put up to seal off the furnace/storage room. As we passed the corner, there was a couple and then off in the distance was a group of guys. We walked pass the couple and spoke but it seemed weird. The Parmesan chicken didn’t allow me to hear what they said so don’t ask.

The second group of guys started heading toward us as we began running to my warehouse looking house. We ran as fast as we could and made it without being robbed of the little wheeled bike. I remember now why we headed back. We decided that it was too early to walk or ride the bike. We decided to take the car instead.

I woke up from the dream and completed my 2am old man trip which includes a visit to the bathroom and to the refrigerator for water. I think it’s the water that dissolves the dream and brings you back to reality. On my way back down the hall to my bedroom, I said to myself two things, “I bet someone will try to interpret this one,” and the second thing was, “What if there were different foods that could cause you to have different dreams?” What about a store that sold dreams in the form of food. I bet they don’t sell that at Whole Foods.

I almost feel like I am preparing mentally for the emails of dream stores and dream interpretations. Can’t a brother have a wild Parmesan crusted chicken dream without believing that Angelo chose it to communicate? First of all, he has never been that energetic. If it was really him, he would have done it with so much more style than a walk along side a small wheeled bicycle in the wee hours of the morning. He would have flew in on a private jet blasting trap music wearing Polo jeans. Somehow he would know all the words. Mumble rapper yuk.

I always try to end every blog with a positive message. I know about the weed stores that offer different trips to the stratosphere and beyond, but when they start serving food trips, let me know. I will be the first to place an order for the Liver and Brussel sprouts special to the Cayman Island. Don’t eat late and lay down. It’s not a good mix really. I’m going back to bed.

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