In my dream I walk through the Bronx and down into Manhattan, past stone bridges where an older woman is selling used clothes and luggage , past a nighttime neighborhood where the men are amputees asleep in the corners of subway entrances. I am followed, mocked and threatened. Something in the air smells delicious.

In my dream I can see the posts in the dark room.

In my dream two guys take up so much time with their petty fight that the rest of us lose the chance for the games that we had borrowed from the library so we just go home.

In my dream I hold black plastic tent pegs. I waltz with my mother.

In my dream the woods have white muslin dresses to dance in and the work bench has a filament printed snail shell.

In my dream there is a rainbow-colored data cable and Milla Jovovich appearing as a pokemon trainer. I can’t understand why she is carrying two katanas.

In my dream there is a concrete slab in the courtyard as I come down the wooden stairs. In the twilight I can make out the impression of a pair of jeans and a denim jacket and I wonder how many other homespun monuments are laid out on campuses around the country.

In my dream people at the party notice that the braid in my beard now reaches the floor, but that is only because the center section has become detached and is held on by a few strands of hair. I am introduced to a klingon and their offspring and there are so many of them that I wonder if they are born in litters, like puppies.

In my dream I barely see the vehicles.

In my dream I arrive to see the start of the day at the vegetable market: brigades of leafy plants swarming across pallets, arranging themselves into enticing displays on the cardboard. So abundant!

In my dream I pull until molars from the hunks of my rotting jaw bone. It feels inevitable.

In my dream I can’t get used to the fact that our apartment is now on the ground floor of the building, so that our balcony looks out onto the street.

In my dream the parking lot has several flocked vans grouped together. A happy friend orders a “slutty coke”.

In my dream my notebooks are large and brown, full of drawings.

In my dream J and I are in the loft building where she has her studio. A friend meets us and begins to show us through a darkened floor. Everything is plywood, nailed together.

In my dream everyone has finally learned all that I haven’t done.

In my dream there are decks of cards, a row of women and a physical duty that is presumed but not defined.

In my dream someone named Michael has repaired my leather jacket. He used a wide brown zipper on the front and demonstrates how easily it slides. I grope through my pockets to find some twenties so I can tip him.

In my dream I fix a lanyard for J’s cell phone.

In my dream the end is approaching through the darkening doors.