It's a favourite daydream. It has been ever since you were a small boy, and while some of the trimmings change, the basics never do.
There's a big sky above. Sometimes it's a blue so deep and pure that you think it must go on forever, and sometimes it's black, sprinkled with stars that you never see when you look up from city streets. There's a horse, a gentle-natured beast with a big heart, that whinnies to greet you. There's grassland, stretching out as far as your eyes can see, lush green or grain-gold, as the mood takes you.
When you were young you rode that grassland alone, and sometimes you still do, but nowadays you have a companion as often as not. It's Starsky of course, riding a big, mean, bay horse. Both horse and rider have a glint of mischief in their eyes. Sometimes you talk. Sometimes you simply ride, companions in quiet, because if there's one thing that you know, it's that sometimes silence is the only thing that will do.
You suspect that Starsky might laugh if you tried to tell him, especially about his presence in your little dream-world. The two of you whittle jokes and banter with a knowledge of each other as sharp as a Bowie knife, and sometimes the blade slips. So you let your dream out into the real world in small ways - your clothes, your music. Just a whisper of a cowboy dream.