I dreamt. Three people riding on two horses, one white, one black. I wasn't the prince or the knight. I think I knew the people, Chris one of them. The mission was to rescue someone. A guy tried to strangle me. I actually woke up pushing his arm away and saying something aloud, forcefully.
We wait because every moment it means more. Knowing you is knowing love.
Spring has rekindled my interest in motorcycles. I'm thinking about what it is that draws me to them. I dislike the vulnerability. I dislike how much maintenance and equipment a bike can need. I dislike weather being a concern. I love the increased awareness and control. Robert said riding a bike is to driving as watching TV is to life. I like the flexibility, I like the size, the efficiency. It just feels right to use a vehicle three or four times my weight (and still grossly overpowerful) to move myself. (And yes, I'd rather it be less, I'm not offended by scooters, although I desire something highway-comfortable).
There's an aspect of it that's basically mid-life crisis, I think. Except I'm not really mid-life. There's something about being young and free, on a bike, hair in the wind, so to speak. My brain keeps trying to separate that from the more practical desires.
With a little energy comes restlessness. I know I want to keep my job for awhile yet. I know I want to spend time with people I like/love. Then there's a whole lot of other things I'd like to do, and it isn't clear to me how many I have time for and which are most important.