i dream of a breakfast supreme

Last night I dreamt that I found John Coltrane sitting on my front porch, which was rather odd because:

1. John Coltrane has been dead for nearly forty years.

2. I don't have a front porch.

Still, he was sitting there chainsmoking and looking out across my yard at nothing in particular and saying very little. In fact, the only thing he said was that he wanted to go get some breakfast but didn't have any shoes. So it was that I gave him my nicest pair of black leather shoes and we embarked on a five mile trek to the I.H.O.P., even though I had a perfectly good vehicle sitting in the driveway. Trane didn't say so, but I could tell he wanted to walk.

He didn't say much over breakfast either. He just sat there smoking between plates of bacon, sausage, and eggs. In fact, I had to do his ordering for him and somehow just took him as the sort of chap to show little regard for cholesterol and such.

I ordered myself waffles and a slice of key lime pie and then spread the pie over the waffles. I offered some to Trane, but he shook his head after taking a moment to stare at them and give the matter some serious thought.

I picked up the check when we were done. Trane rummaged through his overcoat and found some wadded dollar bills to leave as a tip. He then patted me on the back and said, "Thanks. Now wake up."

So I did.