In my dream I am seated down front for a production of “Applause”. The bathrooms are cruisy but only have white sailcloth dividers, so I’m flushing the toilet with my foot. A neighbor displays journals and self burned CDs on a small table during intermission.

In my dream my bustling and chattiness makes David Lee Roth joke with me and then offer to give me a kiss.

In my dream we are outdoors preparing their wedding.

In my dream the toys are cardboard backed blister packs that contain piles of greasy black plastic guns.

In my dream I’m heading home through downtown and trying to figure out what cheap food I’m going to indulge in. The  pleasure I envision is tinged with the pornographic.

In my dream there are two of us attending the seminar in secret. We are getting ready to compare notes.

In my dream another art professor carries a giant pole, festooned in trash, along Mission.

In my dream I can’t bring myself to complete the drawing, or get dressed.

In my dream I’m in the garden for a few minutes  before it becomes clear that I’m there for a trial before the academic council and will probably be fired.

In my dream I cut a slice off of the loaf, spread it with butter and change the record with my tentacle. I’ve been sleeping in the snow in a borrowed silk robe. I may have got shit on the hem.

In my dream the focus shifts from one to the other of them.