Parkour

I had yet another interesting dream. Here is the list of characters: mine father, mine father's friend whom I don't know, probably three of my friends (I suck at remembering names), and mineself. Also, there were some really bulky, strong looking guys who look like truckers, some plasticarmyman sized child, and some teacher (not ever my teacher) who drove a golf cart, and some henchmen of the authorities.

It starts with one friend, my dad's friend, and my dad sitting in what seemed to be a airport terminal that had been changed into a group eating room. We sat in leather backed chairs in a corner. Someone was telling a story, but that isnt the fun part (and I dont remember it). After, I left and sat in the middle of the room with my friends. After waiting awhile, we got up and started running. The authorities did not like this much, so they started chasing us. We used complex parkour to change floors, directions, etc. Eventually we made it to a room with a balcony (where we were standing) about 30 feet up from the floor, over looking a giant room 50x50x50 in which water moved through the bottom. There were two doors on the far wall, both being wooden doors that belong to a bedroom. They were separated by 4 feet of wall. Water rushed through them, knocking them gently around. It is here that I realized we were not in an airport terminal, but a cruise ship.

Then we must have teleported. We used our parkour to run down a mountain, a mountain with fences intermittently placed. It must have been a residential mountain. And after a minute of mountain running, I looked right and saw where my class stayed in eighth grade for our Crow Canyon trip. The houses were all correctly placed and the road was just as it has always been. I pointed it out to a friend and they couldnt recall if this was the place. We kept running down and saw houses placed as the Indians in the area would place their houses, directly into the cliffs. Yes, we were running straight down.

Upon reaching the bottom of the mountain, I noticed it looked like a posh neighborhood and I walked toward a streetlight on the vibrantly green grass (it was nighttime). I was spotted by an elderly teacher and a small boy, and I immediately hid under a car on the side of the road. The teacher's golf cart passed me but then I watched her grab my ankles. I got away and did the most probable thing of this story: I stole a car. Sadly, the car was either as slow as the golf cart or the golf cart as fast as the car. But luckily, I had a remote control car that I could use that was equally as fast. We drove to the end of the street and I turned left with a skid and the teacher followed. I set out the remote controlled car and learned how it handled. It was not easy. I did a quick 180 to get back to the original street. The RMC and golf cart followed. I turned right at the street but decidedly kept the remote controlled car going straight (the RMC would follow my car automatically, I learned later, but I had to override it to make it do otherwise) and the old lady was fooled! She kept after the RMC. Poor vision, poor judgement, or just poor old person? You decide.

I parked the car and hurriedly ran to where I came from. Now cops were everywhere and my gang was running around the place too. We had earpeices to communicate. I jumped a lot of fences, but my best jump came at the end when I jumped over a chainlink fence with an advertisement banner spread across it. It was a thirty foot fall that I lived through because a) I grabbed on to a 10 foot box with my left hand as I fell and I was able to keep running or b) I was in a dream. Nonetheless, it was pretty badass and it kept me from the cops that were chasing me. I know one of my friends (who had turned into to a scruffy prison escapee in normal person clothes) didnt, but the others I lost contact with so I'm not sure. Then I woke.

Thus, I evaded the popo.

Tabernacle

I made my desktop background a giant banner with the word "Tabernacle" in rather large font spread among the entire width of the screen. Tabernacle is a funny sounding word. My favorite definition for it is: the human body as the temporary abode of the soul. (dictionary.com).

My tabernacle is bigger than your tabernacle. Owned.

Hope your day is swell!

A Golden Memory

My dog's name is Goldey, or maybe it's Goldy. It must be written down somewhere, we have had him since puphood (he's 12 and a Golden Retriever).

This dog is no ordinary dog; he is a war veteran with two purple hearts. The first battle took place when my mom was walking him through the neighborhood. Goldey was a fast dog (not so much anymore due to his arthritis, but nonetheless)and he had the endurance of a animal-with-a-lot-of-endurance. Yeah, I know. That's a lot of endurance. And due to this speed and endurance the two of them were out around a mile from the house when they jogged passed a nice brick casa with a comforting green lawn. Hardly the home of a red-eyed, foaming-mouthed, man-eating beast named Fluffles to live, and I'm pretty sure that no Fluffles did live there. But the next house, just as serene except for that blasted tree branch resting in the yard, did have this monster (although the beast was probably not red-eyed, foaming-mouthed, man-eating, or named Fluffles). They went past with out a care when suddenly the gate shattered open with a BAM and a German Shepherd charged directly at my mom and dog. Goldey jumped in the way to meet the neo-Nazi head on. They battled for a moment before the owner came out to help. I like to think Goldy won, so he did. Purple heart number 1.

The second battle was also on a mother-dog walk through the neighborhood. This time Goldy and a pit bull whom we shall call Mr. Snouts got a little too close and Mr. Snouts pounced and clamped his jaw around the golden boy wonder. But Goldy broke free and flew to the roof of the nearest house, hid behind the chimney, and came back in his golden cape to save my mother, the damsel in distress. Wouldn't that be something? In seriousness, my mom had to pry the jaw from Goldy's head. Goldy was bleeding and so were my mom's hands. Mr. Snouts' owner could not easily handle his dog. The most menacing flesh wound was but a centimeter or two from blinding Goldy.

So this is what I'm dealing with, a freakin' war hero and enduring casualty. Why would I ever pick a fight with this superpup? Well, because he started it.

6 or so years ago, I was sitting on a couch with Goldey by my side and I leaned over to give him a good pettin' when he looked at me, paused, and then jabbed me in the face with his paw. I obviously didn't cry or anything because I'm a man, and I solve things with violence. I jabbed him back, right in the snout. He hit me again. I exclaimed, "Goldey, thats not fair! I was just getting revenge." I hit him again. He hit me again, this time with some claw action. I hit him again. He hit me again. This went on for five minutes. I'd like to call it a brawl, but it was more accurately a cat fight. I think I won. I went to put on my WWF Heavyweight Championship Belt to prove it.