The night I dreamt about Jimi Hendrix

 A few months ago, I dreamt about Jimi Hendrix. As this dream was in English, so is this blog post. Sorry for les fâchés avec la langue de Shakespeare.

I was in the backstage of a pub in London. I was putting my guitar back into its case when I turn around. Jimi was standing there, his shoulder on the doorframe.
- Look, JC, he said with a large smile, we're paid !
He was holding a fistful of British pound bills. He looked so proud and so was I : we just played together for a gig.
- Let me buy you a drink, c'mon, he added

We sat at the bar with a beer or something.
- I admit that I am jealous of the way you play, I said
- Oh, really?
- Yes, I die to have your right hand technique
I was mimicking the rhythm with my right hand.
- Oh, you mean my left hand... I'm lefty, remember ?
He laughed, so did I.
- Just keep on moving with the groove and relax, he said. Yeah, relax : that's the trick!

That is all I can remember. I remember his smooth voice, his smile and especially his incredible kindness. He was very warm and friendly.

Thank you Jimi.