I don't often write epic length posts about anything in particular nor do I tend to rant on about the latest this, that or the other but something has been happening quite a lot so I thought I'd chuck it out there for you lovely lot to get your teeth in to.
Those that know me, know that I am a motorbike fan and ride around on a Suzuki Bandit. I love it. It does everything I want it to do and gives me lots of pleasure. Plus, before we had two cars it was my main form of transport, even in wet and crappy Blighty weather.
For the last year or so I've had the same dream/nightmare where I'm generally in some city and I've lost my said lovely bike! It's not been stolen, mostly, although this has been at least one of the dreams where I'm trying to steal back my bike from some bike-stealing mo-fo's. Generally though, the reacquiring dream has the same key points: I'm in a city, panicked, trying to remember where I've left my bike.
Last nights instalment of 'Where the feck is my bike' featured some city with narrow streets and mostly white buildings where I found myself on the back of a Police bike whizzing through the city on the search for said Bandit. What was unique about this particular anxiety ridden nightmare was how lucid it all seemed and how I could remember thinking that the local 5.0, who had kindly offered to help scour the streets for the Bandit (all puns intended), had exceptional riding skills and just how low he was tipping his Police bike in to corners - with me on the back!
As you've probably had these very real dreams yourself, I was totally immersed in the moment and could feel all the sensations of flying around the corners expecting at any moment the back wheel to say 'nope, you're taking the piss, you're off sunshine(s)'. But, surprising there was no limit to how far this bike would go and I was still on the back, perhaps with a little less wee in my bladder and more than usual in my pants.
My memory has never been great. I'll blame that partly on my late teens and twenties (and maybe thirties) but it's not something that I'm consciously concerned about for now. That said, I've often come out of the supermarket and have needed to be lead like the blind by either my boy-child or girl-child to where I've parked the car, but we all do that, right?
I'm also not consciously THAT precious about my bike either. Yes, I would be gutted if it was stolen but logically I know it could be replaced through the insurance money.
So, Im wondering what this is all about. All you armchair psychologists please feel free to chime in.
Those that know me, know that I am a motorbike fan and ride around on a Suzuki Bandit. I love it. It does everything I want it to do and gives me lots of pleasure. Plus, before we had two cars it was my main form of transport, even in wet and crappy Blighty weather.
For the last year or so I've had the same dream/nightmare where I'm generally in some city and I've lost my said lovely bike! It's not been stolen, mostly, although this has been at least one of the dreams where I'm trying to steal back my bike from some bike-stealing mo-fo's. Generally though, the reacquiring dream has the same key points: I'm in a city, panicked, trying to remember where I've left my bike.
Last nights instalment of 'Where the feck is my bike' featured some city with narrow streets and mostly white buildings where I found myself on the back of a Police bike whizzing through the city on the search for said Bandit. What was unique about this particular anxiety ridden nightmare was how lucid it all seemed and how I could remember thinking that the local 5.0, who had kindly offered to help scour the streets for the Bandit (all puns intended), had exceptional riding skills and just how low he was tipping his Police bike in to corners - with me on the back!
As you've probably had these very real dreams yourself, I was totally immersed in the moment and could feel all the sensations of flying around the corners expecting at any moment the back wheel to say 'nope, you're taking the piss, you're off sunshine(s)'. But, surprising there was no limit to how far this bike would go and I was still on the back, perhaps with a little less wee in my bladder and more than usual in my pants.
My memory has never been great. I'll blame that partly on my late teens and twenties (and maybe thirties) but it's not something that I'm consciously concerned about for now. That said, I've often come out of the supermarket and have needed to be lead like the blind by either my boy-child or girl-child to where I've parked the car, but we all do that, right?
I'm also not consciously THAT precious about my bike either. Yes, I would be gutted if it was stolen but logically I know it could be replaced through the insurance money.
So, Im wondering what this is all about. All you armchair psychologists please feel free to chime in.
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