Yeah, I had one of those last night.
I dreamed I visited his house -- a surprisingly modest suburban split-level -- and just hung out with the Hoff, watching TV, sipping iced tea, and shooting the breeze. I told him that I'd been a fan of Knight Rider in my youth, and had followed his career since with interest. And, while his role choices tended often toward kitsch (he frowned disapprovingly at this point) I nonetheless respected him for diving into any project with his characteristic enthusiasm and self-effacing humor. This seemed to placate him, and as I left, he slipped me a bill for gas money. I, not wanting to appear greedy and instead properly respectful of the gesture itself, put the bill into my pocket without unfolding it to see its denomination.
Truly weird, I tell you.
UPDATED! Now with more Hoff!
David H. is well loved indeed in Germany -- much like Jerry Lewis in France. Funny old world, ain't it?
UPDATED AGAIN!! Too cool to pass up...
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2 comments:
Man, you are one sick puppy.
Well, in my own defense, it seems a fairly tame sort of dream, as D.H. dreams go...
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