Mike Tyson snatched a Nashville-hot chicken sandwich off my tray and took a bite out of it. It was an instance of bullying. Of public humiliation. My anger required that I put the tray down and address him. I knew that wasn't wise, or good for me, but I didn't care. I reacted.
This was a dream, of course, though I do enjoy a spicy chicken sandwich now and then. A lesson regarding the self-destructive power of anger or something along those lines. Got it. Thanks, Universe.
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