Slow to blog this morning. Dreamed Ringo Starr came to visit me last night. I heard a knock on the door, I opened it and there he was! I recognized him right away, which kind of took him by suprise. I showed him around the apartment. I had Beatles pictures on the wall. He looked at them with bemusement. He was very nice, short, almost buddha-like.

It may be significant that of the four moptops, it was Ringo, one of two remaining living Beatles, not John, not George who came to pay a visit. Ringo was probably the most humble of the bunch, although George 'the mysterious one' seemed to be working on a saintly ('living in the material world') humbleness too.

The Beatles have been on my mind lately, their harmony, melody, their devotion to the 'love song,' make them stand out in the firmament. Their music was always a great example of the creative mind 'unbound.'

Ringo was the anchor, he laid down a solid foundation, he was the most 'grounded' of the group.

The dream kind of petered out, he was there and then he was gone.

What was said, did not seem important. Ringo came for a visit. We 'saw' eachother, two beings, two souls, 'two of us,' alive in our shiny human suits.