This afternoon, I experienced a weird sense of déjà vu when, motorcycling back home from Taichung, I came up on a long bridge and saw black clouds lowering ahead, even as the sun shone bright behind me. I had a paper bag full of books hanging from a hook in front of me and was not prepared to deal with rain, but what choice did I have? Like Byron in the dream, I went over the bridge and into the dark. The first fat drops began falling literally seconds after I arrived at my destination.
Showing posts with label Storms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Storms. Show all posts
Sunday, July 7, 2024
Lord Byron on a motorcycle
My dreams of last night ended with this brief scene: Lord Byron, dressed in the clothing of his era, with a black cape about his shoulders, was standing astride a black Yamaha crotch rocket with a long bridge ahead of him. Behind him, the late afternoon sun was shining. Before him, dark storm clouds gathered. He stood there for a few moments, gazing into the distance as if sizing up the situation. Then he started the engine, hunched forward in the seat, and sped off over the bridge and into the storm.
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