At 7am this morning, cleaning the bathroom was not nearly as appealing as snuggling deeper into my warm bed. I went back to sleep and dreamed of James Brown. He was walking by in a procession, dressed in his typical performance garb although the color was darker and more subdued than his usual threads. He came up to the guy standing next to me and shook his hand and said, “James Brown says ‘Hello’ ” and then James Brown walked on.
I have no idea why James Brown was in my dream, why he referred to himself in the third person or why the hell he didn’t shake MY hand. It’s my freakin’ dream! Oh and the lucky bastard who did touch the undead Hand was some guy who used to work at Avers, who I haven’t even thought of, well enough seen in years. Frell.