New-Bourne baby.

I had a dream last night I was Jason Bourne, only I was still me. But there was a definite feeling I was on the run and should be careful. As I walked down a hallway, a slightly nefarious-looking man straight out of central casting made eye contact with me and then dropped a cell phone in my hand.

"Keep walking. Call this number: xxx-xxxx." (Which was actually my real-life work number, but it didn't have that significance in the dream.)

I said, “How do I know I can trust you?” and he answered, “How do I know I can trust you?” I called the number and the person who answered required a number of passwords that the contact provided to me. I don't remember what the person on the phone said, but the gist was: they had found me. They who? Dunno. Baddies, to be sure.

The contact took me upstairs to a room right off a landing and told me that I needed to run for it when he told me to. I was wearing flip flops, so I sat down to change shoes (the brown sneakers I bought at Payless about 5 years ago, complete with ped socks, because apparently even dream-me doesn't want sweaty feet). As soon as I sat down he screamed “Go now!” and there was a hail of bullets.

I managed to get outside the building and run across an open plaza to another building where there was more cover. Luckily for someone on the run like me, there were rows and rows of clotheslines with laundry on them right there on the street level of an urban, downtown street, so I stole a shirt to change into to throw off the baddies and disguise myself. It still had the laundry ticket in the pocket and I felt bad for the owner...but I was on the run!

I don’t know what was going to happen next because I woke up, but my guess is that I was going to cut and dye my hair, like all the women in the Bourne movies do.