Calling Dr. Freud


I have no idea what inspired this or what it means but it was so strange that I feel compelled to tell the story. At least there was no cigar.

I had a dream in the wee hours of this morning. Well, it could have been as late as 5:30 but it was still dark out.

I was at a hotel where I often stayed on business (not in real life, just in the dream). For some reason, George was with me. As I was sitting on the commode and talking on my cell phone (something I don’t do in real life and greatly disapprove of) I could see across the room to a window to the outside.

Suddenly, a shape pushed its way through the curtains into the room. It was a rooster and looked suspiciously like my nemesis from Key West. The rooster ran across the room and jumped on my lap. I screamed and told the person I was talking to that I was attacked by a chicken. George hissed, made one swipe at the rooster then ran away while I yelled at her to come help me.

Without quite realizing how, I was up, and so were my pants, as I grabbed the rooster and took it to the door. When I opened the door, there were two people in the hallway that I was apparently familiar with so I tried to explain the rooster while tossing it out past them. As I was explaining, it ran back into my room. They made some comment about the same thing happening to them.

Then, I woke up. George was curled up next to me, fast asleep, and it took me a while to shake it off and go back to sleep myself.

Maybe the chicken that my parents fed me for dinner last night was wacky chicken, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

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