The past two weekends (in real life) I have spent in Chicago, whether intended or not. This weekend I spent it there only in my dreams. Last night I dreamed that I was in a Spaghetti Factory in Chicago (however, it resembled the spaghetti factory in Omaha's Old Market). And though it looked like a Spaghetti Factory, it also was an Olive Garden.
I was there with a large group of people, presumably some class or something. Well, after we placed our orders, there was a sort of intermission, and we all went outside. When we came back in, we found that only a few of the tables had salads on them. So, I began rearranging the tables to switch that with the salad with the table I was seated at. Apparently, this was much more reasonable than moving the salads themselves.
The tables were shaped like the salad plates that I currently am helping to make with my summer job with a potter. With all the moving of tables and such, I don't recall eating, or getting my meal. I do recall leaving.
Afterwards, I wondered if I had dined and dashed (minus the dining, so more like ordered and dashed). I was relating my concern to Kyle Wyatt, while we and more of the larger group ate sushi.
We left the place, only for me to fear that I had dined and dashed yet again. When we left, we both grabbed our bikes, because we wanted to save gas money and the environment. We began biking through what looked to be North Park in Story City; however, it was filled with mounds for BMX. This didn't phase us, and Kyle especially, I would get too scared to go down the steep hills, and when I told him about it, he confessed that he had wet himself while going down one rather steep hill.
From here I biked alone along a highway. The highway was made of what resembled acrylic gold shag carpet, and the hills which bordered it were clumps of glittering asphalt. I became very fatigued cycling...
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