In my dream it’s finally time to head up the stairs to the left of the porn bookstore. On the second floor we are still framing out the booths.

In my dream the wall’s crack bulges with glowing blue gelatin.

In my dream the kitchen drawers are clean but packed two thirds full with solid junk.

I decided to turn my “in my dream ” posts into an ebook for those who might want to peruse the whole thing.

Right now you can pick it up as an EPUB on Gumroad : https://2558879792808.gumroad.com/l/srcoku

Or for your kindle here on Amazon https://a.co/d/bGyWuic

In my dream a whirring soundtrack.

In my dream every apartment means a cycle of imprisonment, escape and chase: he’s in there,will kill me, so I jump through windows, leap across roofs and take different routes though streets to try to escape once and for all. But no: another cycle.

In my dream the exercise program is spyware.

In my dream, rushed talk.

In my dream I need to get them to fill out the survey, all of its many pages. It is impossible to slip though the huge musical about the Gilded Age, because of the constantly revolving scenery and elaborate numbers: every thing that looks like a seat ends up being on stage.

In my dream it darkens and warms.

In my dream I’m walking the dog that replaced Monte across the street in the drizzle.

In my dream we’re tumbled together and the names change and we’re not frightened.