More "Mr. Bojangles"

Just two days after my intense Mr. Bojangles dream, I walked over to Penn Station and went down the stairs to the lower corridor on my way to the Big K-Mart pharmacy to renew my prescription of migraine pills. There was a woman playing guitar and singing at one end of the long hallway, and at first I didn't make out the song, but then I suddenly realized that it was "Mr. Bojangles!"

I didn't stop to listen, though, because it was my lunch break and I had to get that prescription. It turned out that my prescription had expired anyway—so much for that. I had some more dreams that keep almost coming back to me but don't. Just a few minutes ago the significance of all this seemed profound, but now the significance escapes me.