Some things are just too random to explain.

I dreamed I met George Harrison last night.

I was in some town somewhere (dreams are like that) and somebody told me that George was across the street signing autographs and in general, meeting and greeting. Well, me being a Beatle fan and a fan of George in general, it was a natural match.

I gathered up something for him to sign (I don't know what it was - dreams are like that) and sought out the line, which was long, but I was sleeping so how long could it have been? I stood there for a while, conversing with other line-standers over what, I have no idea. I was asleep.

Once I got to the front, there was George at a table, handling items passed to him with great aplomb and greeting people with that George-like smile and casual friendliness that we all assumed he had - because he did. It was the long-haired and bearded George, not the one we had come to see over the last years of his life. The Bangladesh George - the good one.

I handed him whatever it was that I had - I think it was sheet music to one of his songs, probably My Sweet Lord because it's here in the files somewhere - and he signed it. But it wasn't the customary signature, like "Best Wishes - George." It was a sentence. Some sort of random sentence that you would say in conversation, like "The prawns at dinner were especially tasty, and I hope to visit you again." Something like that. I can't remember exactly what it was, but dreams are like that - we can't always remember exactly what anything was like. I wish I had written it down, since it would make this story more appealing, but you'll have to trust me on the random nature of the signature.

He looked at it for a second and read it aloud, as though he was proud of what he had written. Meanwhile, there I was with my hand out thinking that I would receive a "Best wishes, George" while I was instead getting a personalized greeting of some non-sequitur that he had conjured up in his mind from one of the great minds of the century.

Once I heard him read it, I realized that I was getting something special from one of my musical heroes, and I quickly pulled my hand back and thanked him for writing something so personal directed toward me. The sentence was followed by his signature, which I imagine was nothing like his actual signature - but dreams are like that. It was like a GH, with the combination of the letters turned into a face with a beard and two eyes that somehow conveyed that it was indeed George Harrison's signature. I was still asleep.

For some reason, it seemed exactly like something George would do - but then, dreams are like that.