In my dream the news reports that two custom plushes escaped the fire.

In my dream a bundle hovers.

In my dream it’s up and down it’s in the air it’s right in front of me.

In my dream I’m collecting the buttons from around the various sites. He looks in the room and stalks off. “It’s about K” I say to the assembled co-workers.

In my dream a musical about thrift shopping reminds me that I have time on Saturday to sew an extravagant gown to wear for Graduation on Sunday. I get to work and shop, while the festivities thicken around me.

In my dream our show is downstairs and soon I’m sitting on the floor wrapping a rawhide braid into a loop for another artist.

In my dream, rounded with roommates.

In my dream I don’t know it and everyone is mad. I can’t even get backstage.

In my dream it’s oily jumbled past with no smell.

In my dream there is a row of teenage soldiers, nervous and aroused by what is in the next room. Downstairs we refresh our meals at the stand.