In my dream there is a lull in the campus lockdown, so I take the time to shop for a costume at the thrift store, picking out a split brown belt that I slip over my head as a kind of medallion, matching my brown vinyl pants. I’ll need to get inside soon.

In my dream there is the bog.

In my dream T and P have taken a chair out of their living room, revealing the wooden floor. I am shocked, but can breathe.

In my dream she keeps urging me to authenticate the coloring book she holds near her khaki outfit. Her persistence is a motif.

In my dream he offers to let me get behind the wheel of the steel cart so that I can drive it around the parking structure and pull up next to the stacked wooden crates. I am Shakey but only slam into the wall once, explaining that I still can’t quite gauge the pedals  through my shoes.

In my dream I try to figure out which waffles will go with the stack of various enameled plates I’ve purchased at the outdoor sale.

In my dream he shows me how the gantry works and once I see how it slides across the ceiling I start to plan an installation with layers of hanging chains draped into a proscenium. I find my notebook on the building’s roof.

In my dream I am being pushed through.

In my dream, L hunts for materials for her show. The loading dock is filled with scrap that shifts into black and white while we wait in the dim morning light for the library to open.

In my dream every surface is covered in wire, exposed staples and jagged glass. My skin, clothing and hair catches as I try to slip through the barrier.

In my dream I head out of the back door and make two quick rights across the field, to hide from my pursuer. The light is pale.