In my dream, churning.

In my dream it’s the end of the event when they tell me I’m hosting a panel discussion. People in the loft are finishing their food, starting to talk and unwilling to be wrangled into another conversation even if I could find their names and speaking order on my phone.

In my dream a lost phone leads to a swiped suitcase leads to a smirking job announcement leads to a punching contest leads to a broken wall leads to a concussion leads to a stolen black suede jacket leads to a reconciliation, all on one filthy intersection.

In my dream: blue dough, patched black canvas and someone has given me something that I now regret being without.

In my dream the argument stills itself.

In my dream: a wobbling square.

In my dream I embrace the hedgehog mascot while they stand in the dirty brown circle.

In my dream the windows reflect. They are far apart.

In my dream there is a Kool-Aid Signal, among others.

In my dream I select rolls of sweet caraway bread from the tray on the counter.

In my dream the special is changing from Wednesday to Thursday, as indicated by the broken bottle on the sign in the conference hall.