He was looking good now he'd kicked the booze, and was preparing for his comeback tour. He showed me the set list: Hendrix covers and classical pieces, which he claimed had inspired his intros.
He was buying me this elaborate meal, with wine he'd chosen to accompany each course, as a thank you for my friendship during the turbulent 1960s and all my hard work typing up his lyrics for him. Nothing sexual going on, my subconscious was at pains to inform me, we were simply pals.
The plate had arrived and he was showing me everything he'd selected for me - the heap of veggies and the previously-mentioned, personally-oiled fishies, which I think were pan-fried skate wings.
I lifted up the layer of salad. There, at the bottom of the plate, was a shiny blue snake with black spots. Or was it an eel? No, a snake.
I looked at Jim. Was this really haute cuisine, and was I seriously going to have to eat it?
Jim burst out laughing.
I woke up.