Again sitting down without to write without an agenda. I had a meeting in the morning, where some of the work done yesterday would need to be revised, nothing major but I was glad to have left it in tentative setting, because today I incorporated what was discussed.
After the meeting I took the metro to the office of the studio I’m working with. I brought along Goethe’s autobiography, which has engrossed me for the past few weeks. I was delighted by an anecdote: on one occasion he was leaving for another city, saying farewell to the lady he loved. As he rode off on his horse, his imagination conjured an image of himself riding a horse back to this place, in a gray salmon suit. The vision would prove prophetic, for eight years later he’d be riding back in a suit of the same color.
This kind of phenomena seems to arise in intuitive people. I’ve had the same kind of visions confirmed, yet in a much less impressive and explainable way, mostly involving dreams. I just take note to write down these visions, should they come up in the future. There is no supernatural phenomena involved, of course, the way I explain it in Goethe’s case is that his yearning to come back to see her both produced the vision and the future visit. He states that it was unplanned, but a unconscious force sometimes brings our visions into alignment with reality.
I had left my bike tied to a light post in front of the police station since a week ago, and I found it still there with a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. It’s a cheap bike to which I possess no attachment, so I kinda hope it’s stolen so I can upgrade, and yet at the same time there’s no need to upgrade, it serves me just fine.
Edit some hours later:
I came out of the office to grab my bike and head to the TED Talks MeetUp Group, but my bike was no longer there. I rubbed my eyes: I’d seen it just three hours ago! What sorcery was this! Was this a test of my statement that “I feel no attachment to my bike”? Well, it worked. My heart sunk, yet I was still amused at the synchronicity. But then I thought: the police might have taken it, thinking it was abandoned, and if not I’ll just report it stolen.
So, without giving it a second thought I went into the police station asking if they had picked a bike that had been parked outside. Two middle aged policemen were at the desk.
—“It’s been outside several days”
—“I know, I left it there at night because I reasoned it would be safe in front of a police station”. I said that my intention was to pick it up the next day, but it got complicated.
—“Well, it’s illegal to tie bikes to traffic signs, so you’re getting fined”.
—“Noooo! You can’t do this to me!” I cried holding my hands up looking at the sky.
—“What do you mean with you can’t do this to me”.
—“I was speaking to the Lord”.
The police man eyed me suspiciously. He asked for my ID. My heart froze: in Spain it’s illegal not to carry an ID, and it would be an additional fine if I didn’t have my passport on me. I don’t usually carry it as it’s more likely that I lose it than needing it, but fortunately it was in my backpack since my trip to Barcelona. But then my heart froze again: I’ve overstayed my tourist visa, and this would be a major problem if they inspected closely.
A policeman went away with my passport, while another stayed behind. We had a friendly chat and I sense he was playing the good cop: their boss had scolded them for not doing anything about the bike and so on. I apologized and continued the friendly chat for a long time. He remarked that it was taking more time than usual and I was getting nervous, and after what seemed an eternity the man came back with a pad to write down the fine: 30 euros.
I felt genuine rapport with the good cop, and this was confirmed when he apologized for the fine saying “que pena que haya pasado, pareces un tío majete” (it’s a shame this happened, you seem like a good guy), then he gave me a handshake. I assured he was doing his job right and jumped on the bike to head to the meetup. As my lock had been broken, I simply left the bike leaning on a post. When I came out three hours later, it was still there.