In my dream she is on the bus full of jokes.

In my dream I  work up the courage to charge ten dollars for the prepacked meal I’ve made out of vegetables and grains. The other survivors are a little skeptical. Later we go to a deserted loft with a row of badly taxidermied  birds. It’s no longer deserted.

In my dream I cough so hard that I shit my pants.

In my dream I push up the darkened staircase to get out on to Broadway.

In my dream it’s time to hand over the papers.

In my dream a spiral staircase leads down to a sauna cluttered with furniture and recording equipment. A group of women in their forties who look like The Supremes chat and then it is clear that they are heading out for a charity runway. “Slay all!” I say, as they walk upstairs.

In my dream there are a few doors.

In my dream I am seated. Someone is making an offering. Not to me.

In my dream it’s time for the end of the year dance . It’s normally a freeing and sexual event, but I’ve been away so long I don’t know how I feel about it. On the way up the hill I pause to pick out enameled pins, pendants and ribbons to adorn myself with.

In my dream she is young and wants to be a curator. “You know, I’ve learned that over time there are a lot of different types of artists in the world”. I’m trying to let her know that she can’t just organize the same show over and over. She laughs.

In my dream I can drive above the model of the Bay Area someone has built. When I do, I see the way that they have tucked little kaiju onto the roof of certain buildings.

In my dream the performance takes place in front of two overlapping screens, their black and white projections pulsing with grain. The young maenads move rhythmically along the waist high platform until the central performer plants the hunk of near raw lamb in front of them. I think that even the small bit of rehearsal has helped this, when they whirl on me.

In my dream the paste is yellow and chewy. It makes us happy to pass it back and forth. I’ve forgotten where my father is.

In my dream there is an antique game console in my hands. It has slots for two cartridges and combines the two inserted games into one when you play.

In my dream five flat entities are celebrating their birthday in front of the main entrance. They turn from side to side.

In my dream I accompany A as he goes to pick up things he need for his new installation. The wholesaler is showing him kylar letters and I can tell he’s beginning to freak out. I try to reassure him that even if he can’t afford the question mark he needs we can probably make one with some tape.

In my dream Dan Ackroyd is planning a run for mayor of San Francisco and his team has sent a letter to my friend the restaurant critic for the local paper warning her off of challenging him in the primary. The idea is absurd, but I say to her,”Doesn’t it make you want to run, though? We could get up there and say: Don’t vote for us! we look nothing like this city, and neither does Dan Ackroyd!”

In my dream a dispute is telescoped. Her face advances to the foreground while the sound thins.