That John Lennon was assassinated in New York City.

Many years later, I had a dream about John. I dreamt I was walking down a crowded Manhattan sidewalk and walked right up to him. He was staring at the ground, his hands were in his pockets and he had on an ankle-length raccoon coat. He was wearing his trademark round, rimless, tinted spectacles and his long hair bounced up and down with each step.

We both stopped facing each other, only inches apart, and stared into each other’s eyes. I extended my hand and said; “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Lennon, I’ve enjoyed your work a great deal.” He took my hand and answered;
“Thank you very much. Can I buy you a beer?”

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”