India, Feb. 8 -- One night last month, I think I had a melatonin-triggered dream (melatonin being notorious for inducing vivid, cinematic dreams) in which Bob Weir, with his wild white beard and thick moustache, sat on a high stool in the centre of a dark stage with a gentle spotlight bathing him in golden light. He was alone with just an acoustic guitar, singing an incredibly slowed-down version of Grateful Dead's West LA Fadeaway. The dream was happy, soothing. Two days later, news broke of Weir's death, aged 78. The dream turned out to be sadly prescient. It got me thinking about other legends of music that have been part of our lives, and how fortunate we are that some continue to perform and record as Weir did. Those thoughts were ting...