In my dream we are in the dining hall and L, bottomless, moves against my hand with frank desire. It’s been decades since we’ve been in the same room and I’m surprised by how well I know their body and how little we care about those around us.

In my dream we examine the car before turning to the white washed walls in the grove.

In my dream I note with approval the block of store fronts on both sides of the avenue. I look at their over painted facades, windows crammed with thirty year old bric-a-brac, the hollowed out second stories and think “I could live here”. I try to remember the location: 10th Avenue and 38th.

In my dream I hold my robe and regalia in front of me,trying to find a place in the busy subway station to put it on and cover my nakedness. I open a bland painted door and slip inside to find the meeting hall of loners with its rough benches and good cheap pastries. I dress and am home, welcomed by these drifting nocturnal geniuses.

In my dream there was a blur of plants near the ramp and a feeling of disagreement.

In my dream we’ve written on an animal.

In my dream I return to the black rental car to find the back door ripped off and on the curb. D and I struggle to press it back into place. I had been sleeping in there. Now I don’t know.

In my dream she lets me know that she too has heard about the impending storm and so we quietly joke as we sidle around the ship’s med bay, grabbing any things we think will be of use if we capsize.

In my dream we are evacuating the house when we run into the alligator on the roof. Of course there’s a discussion.

In my dream his friend walks over in a crisp white shirt. He is tall, bearded and round but as I go to greet him it’s clear that he doesn’t know the way we fat bears know how to give each other hugs: one arm up and one arm down so that we get them around each other.