I'm riding my motorcycle when I realise the brakes are dodgy. I let her out a little, then brake, and she slows but not to a complete halt. Riding down a side street, my attention is drawn to the sound of a woman's voice. A South African voice. Rare in the States, that. So I loiter, engine running, eager to soak it up. Suddenly the garage door opens and out steps Steven Seagal. He's wearing his customary garb; black leather pants, black boots, long black coat and slicked back ponytail. Whoah! Don't wanna have Mr Happy think I'm about to go through his trash, so I casually pull away.
Down the road there's a police checkpoint. I join a queue and have to show my license. As I reach the front, I dig in my bag for the card, spilling out a slew of other junk, including my old business card. The cop (looking remarkably like the blonde guy from Chips) asks what it is. "Oh, that's my OLD card," I protest. "Here's the new one - it's much better," and I wip out a shiny new, full colour headshot card. He takes it in for that beat past comfort, when this is either gonna be a 40 minute conversation or a kiss - so I nip it in the bud, slapping him on the shoulder with a "I'll let you get on."
And then I woke up. I can't say why the leather clad martial arts fiend, the bike and the cop were in my dream. I should point out that they aren't recurring themes. If they were, one might cast aspertions on my sexuality. Again. The dream's significance is lost on me, but it's certainly refreshing to remember my dream in the first place AND for it to be rather tame as opposed to being chased by wolves. (Which apparently signifies the dreamer's subconcious fear of their dark side) One thing is troubling, however. (Aside from the bike, leather pants and the cop, of course) Why does Steven Seagal sound like a woman?