Dreamt I was here, it was a dark stormy night. I'd crossed to the left corner of the yard and sat down. Across the street Robert Plant was crouching, drenched. He retreated to some undergrowth, near the cryptic rock, closest to me and said that he would be there and vanished from view. By this time a small crowd had gathered round me, and I had a tray of raw chicken that I set down in the grass. Fool in the Rain was not the background song, rather, You Don't Have to Go, o, o, o, oh...
