I was dreaming.
In my dream, I stumbled around a corner of a large building and noticed the art deco sign, cast in shiny aluminium on the wall: The Hotel Morrissey. That’s pretty cool, I thought.
From there, I jumped a railing into the hotel (it’s a dream, if you have to ask), and ended up alone in a lobby cafe. Glancing up at the menu hanging from a wooden beam at the counter, I saw the familiar silhouette of Steven Patrick Morrissey, highlighting a house specialty, The Last of The Famous International Cappucinos. Brilliant.
