So in this dream I was in a car with some coworkers, looking for some restaurant in North Beach. At first it was a right-hand drive car, but then I realized the driver was drunk, as he was slurring and driving like an idiot. I told him I should drive, and he said OK, and we didn’t have to stop and change seats, the controls just became functional on my side. But the brakes didn’t work, which was scary. Luckily we were on a flat stretch, rare in SF. After much pumping, the brakes started working again, and I continued driving.
Damn, I forgot the rest. If I remember it tonight I’ll record it. Anyway, all is right with the world now, Rossi is leading the championship and won Mugello for the 7th time in a row. Oh, and I had a blast at a track day in Savannah, GA this weekend. Awesome track, adorable city.
Oh wait, it’s back. This is the good part. We were out of the car and walking, about to cross a very steep street with a green median. This punk guy was doing a rolling stoppie BACKWARDS up the hill. I was so impressed with his ability to defy physics and modern motorcycle technology, I simply had to stop and talk to him. Plus he was cute. Similar tall/curly blond hair type to the South Africa dream. Hmmm. So while I was asking him how he did it, he told me his name. Jerm.
This was a real blast from the past (shift to reality for a minute here), as Jerm was this skinhead I’d hung out with at this abandoned school that we used to squat in the Haight. So it’s someone I hadn’t seen since 1985. Back to the dream: I asked to see his arm, to see if the time he carved my name in it had left a scar. Turns out he’d not only carved it bigger than all the other girl’s names, but gone ahead and inked it too, so it became a tattoo. Strange behavior for a man who never called or revisited the usual haunts.
Well, while we were talking, my brain had too much trouble accepting the whole “defying physics/mechanics” thing, and morphed his bike into a skateboard. Pfft. anyone can coast a skateboard uphill and launch it off their buddy’s back. OK, maybe in my dreams that’s easy. That was boring, so I morphed it back into a bike, and said goodbye, as my coworkers were anxious to get to the restaurant. Jerm teased me a little for looking so corporate, and I tried to make some joke about how punk rock it is to be a sustainability consultant. But then I remembered it’s more of a hippie thing, which is even worse than being corporate, really.
Dude. I’ve sold out.
