“Earlier this week I woke up to get ready for work, but I actually remembered a dream I had sometime between midnight and the morning.
I was in a 18-wheeler moving van with my wife and 2 unknown friends. We were parked at a truck stop happily chatting in the cabin of the truck when we saw a state trooper walking up towards us. Although I knew that we had not done anything wrong, the other 3 were noticeably nervous as the state trooper walked in a way that reminded me of Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane from Dukes of Hazzard.
“How y’all doin’?” the officer asked as she climbed up the cab and leaned into the open driver’s side window. We all cautiously said, “Good” in unison nodding our heads to hide our uneasy mood. The state trooper scanned the interior of our truck cab, then after not finding what she was looking for asked, “Y’all got an ITS-IT? I know you got one.”
Shelley and my friends turned their gaze at me which caused me to realize that we knew that we had something that could resolve our current predicament. I had an IT’S-IT in my backpack.
For those of you do not know what an ITS-IT is, it is an ice cream sandwich sold at ice cream trucks, liquor stores, and grocery stores. It consists of a circle of sweet vanilla ice cream sandwiched in dark-chocolate coated crunchy-yet-soft oatmeal chocolate cookies. The way the chocolate coating breaks and melts while I bite through the cookies and my teeth sink into the ice cream is something worth trying… everyday if it weren’t for my doctor asking me if I’m keeping my triglycerides levels in check.
As I pondered on the request, a wave of rebelliousness grew inside of me as I looked at my backpack that held my lone It’s It. My wife and friends locked their eyes on me with plastic smiles that I interpreted as, “Give that woman that ITS-IT now!” I committed to sacrificing my ice cream treat by giving it to the that no-good law-woman and save my wife and friends potential trouble with the law.
As I rustled into my backpack to pull out the ice cream sandwich, I turned my attention to the state trooper who now had her mouth open for me to hand feed her the ice cream. “Are you serious?” was the non-verbal big-eyes look I gave my wife. Shelley silently mouthed these words, “Just do it.”
I awkwardly hand-fed the entire ITS-IT to the state trooper who ate it in one bite. After a slow pause, the officer smiled and said, “Y’all have a good day,” and she walked away.
That was the dream. That’s it. ITS-IT! My addiction to that ice cream treat called an ITS-IT has now spilled over into my dream world. Maybe you do, but I don’t know what to make of it. I think I am going to have one now.