In my dream I change back into my clothes after looking through the art deco furniture in the back of the store. I roll up cardboard to stuff it in recycling bins while my nostalgia grows.

In my dream we find the site on the upper west side where a new museum is being built under her leadership. I can’t show my jealousy.

In my dream I can’t grasp the shape in front of me. My mouth is full of salt.

In my dream the kids in the tunnel stand aside to let the car go past without giving it a single look.

In my dream D deftly pulls his car into the little garage below the brownstone. We are trying to slip into the movies without running into an annoying guy we know, but first I want to show D the apartment I’ve been using as a studio space. I go down some steps, open the door and find it’s being used as a sex club. It’s a bit annoying, and the story is the same for the next three buildings. The men are cruising us, and I like how the neighborhood is transforming, but when will I work?

In my dream we move along the street of an unfamiliar neighborhood. On our left, an open storefront where men shape wooden drums by hand. On our right, a traffic island is filled with a market bustling with brightly dressed people. I know they are from Congo.

In my dream someone has pasted scraps of toilet paper over the glowing camera lenses in the corners of the elevator. I appreciate the subtle bits of resistance.

In my dream the black reflective panels come to my waist, like a chic interior from the 1970’s. I can’t remember the word I was going to speak.

In my dream I stand at the part of the lobby where the elevators open and look at the cheap electronics in my arms. I’m going to give away these cell phones.

In my dream we push through streets while the light cuts across the dust.

In my dream the brush is low and dense. Both of stand still while the evening light moves around us.

In my dream two slots are filled with greenery.

In my dream there is a dinner and a giant mallet with a surface like rhinoceros hide. She swings it overhead without a sound.

In my dream we are joking when she puts her hand under my shirt.

In my dream a writer is delighted by the way that we have mounted one of my father’s poems on a thin wooden board with a handle attached so that one can hold it like a paddle or fan, or hang it from the back of a pew. She waves it around while another academic says that she and he are both “horseflies”.

In my dream J and I are resuming life as a couple, even though we’ve never been connected sexually. We will still be rolling around together on the pile of pillows in that makes up our living room

In my dream I slide the case back on the computer and make a circuit of the garden. The air is damp and we argue.

In my dream three different groups of kids are  ushered out of the elevator and into my studio.

In my dream the year old lamb we found in the alley won’t stop jumping up on us and licking our faces.