In my dream the two sides in the magic battle are attaching swinging silk bags to the underside of the tables. Everyone knows who started it.

In my dream the first dress selection is projected on the wall.

In my dream the round, velvet covered speakers from the Seventies look good, but they would have to be rewired so instead I buy the white pasteboard replica of the chapel.

In my dream there is a sense of remorse far away.

In my dream we’ve covered both cars with white shells up to the windows. They sit on the structure above us like brides.

In my dream there is distant repetition.

In my dream the sandwich shop is old cheap wood painted white and I am there after two different art world friends have told me they want nothing to do with me. Fried meat glistens behind plexiglass and when the cook returns it is to negotiate a price for the spell she is casting on my behalf. I feel sour and hollow.

In my dream I search the sand for will o’ the wisps to place in the crown.

In my dream I can’t believe that J has moved all of the walruses and other sea mammals out off their habitats and into the darkened storage room. The inspection is about to happen in a couple of days.

In my dream I come back to pick the pebbled orange armor, which does little to change my stats. It’s vegetal, but we’ve reviewed the decision for so long that I just want it to be over.

In my dream she insists on clicking every crime, even the ones far away by the flat brown wings.