In my dream the room is blood red while we look for the lights.

In my dream I’m trying to edit the footage together while keeping the names of the three participants in my head. I don’t have a lot of time.

In my dream my eyes can’t fix on the mess I thought I was supposed to eat.

In my dream I am trying to construct three separate things that all have homophones for names. Two are Korean noodle dishes and one is a small piece of furniture.

In my dream I’m staying at J’s house while her large Midwestern family visits. In the middle of the night I try to slip into her bathroom to piss which does not work: I keep running into various people while naked, the toilet is basically a trough/sink affair and once I start her mom comes in and startles me such that I piss halfway up the wall. Now the quest is to find paper towels to clean it all up.

In my dream I am facing a jumble of plants and tables.

In my dream I learn that a cult designer of the Sixties is now involved in making a new shop in the village.

In my dream a back yard is a tangle of space and feeling.

In my dream S and I are walking down a shopping street in the Mission. Each alcove is stuffed with things I want, like pants, since I’m not wearing any. S has his dog with him, who is cute but also running around off the leash and I can hear someone trying to lure her across the street.

In my dream the narrow garage bins are lined up around the corner from the breakfast counter.

In my dream I’m rushing around Amsterdam Avenue so that I can get to a kink event in DC when I look at the beautiful day and say fuck it, I’ll stay here, thereby saving myself a couple of thousand dollars.

In my dream I try to back track to where everything was dropped. The boxes on the loading dock were once stacked but now they list into chaos.

In my dream I cross upper Market Street to buy a pen from a new variety store on the second floor.

In my dream the green is deep and murky. The bad feeling overtakes us.

In my dream I search until I find the tobacco dealer at the front of the crowded market. I wanted a cigar, but I see that he might have  cheap pipes and an English blend for sale. The policy is that you smoke back in the store and then pay on the way out.

In my dream the student tells me that she and the other students think that my work isn’t very good.

In my dream I pull back a drop cloth and find that the apartment has a full workroom where the occupant has been making bulbous green glass sculptures.

In my dream an idea hits me as I stand on the wooden floor of the Park Avenue Armory: a massive volleyball game, one hundred players on each side. It will be a perfect activity for all of us, post collapse.