No Bones Tim

I dreamed I was running.  I wasn't covering much ground, but i was running as fast I possibly could.  All of my legs were pedals on a ten-speed bike in first gear, each one whirring like something that whirs very quickly.  I was in the lot in front of the house, but it wasn't the lot in front of the house; it was something more like the yard in front of the church.  Someone was telling me to do my tricks, so i do my tricks; i'm jumping 30 or 40 feet in the air and I'm doing what must be 100 spins.  When I reach the ground I roll 13 times; I'm really rolling.  I roll so far that I end up in the backyard; it had to have been more than 13 times now that I think about it.  Anywho, I'm in the backyard now.  I see this pile of chicken bones and I just have to have them.  Then my eyes adjust like the camera adjusts in the movies where the background gets blurry and gives way to the foreground; all the bones are behind the new damn fence he put up a few days ago.  No bones for me, even in my dreams.