In my dream we are performing a play where a National Park tour becomes an ICE raid. We scramble for our belongings as everything becomes increasingly militarized.

In my dream it’s quiet, and not competitive, but irritating.

In my dream I fill in the legs, gently. A lacework of veins stands out against the darkness.

In my dream the parade will be heading up Amsterdam Avenue, flat LED light panels and headdresses glowing in the twilight. Do I have what I need?

In my dream we could use the connected rubber discs by sitting on them and stretching them apart with our legs, because “you are women”.

In my dream I chose faces from forms.

In my dream we wrangle and the darkness echoes.

In my dream the tray holds all the pieces for a plastic three dimensional puzzle.

In my dream all my shoes are gone after one night sleeping in the building. I take the elevator to a loft upstairs and S grabs me from behind to cut me with the kitchen knife he holds . I grab it and stab his eye, but we are still locked together, deliberate.

After many stops and starts, I finally got to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time: approve the cover for my forthcoming book, My Studio Is A Dungeon Is The Studio, published this fall by Duke University Press. It’s an anthology of art writing, performance scripts, short fiction, essays, and a bunch of other things and it’s been in the works for over five years. It would not have existed without the incredible work of Jarret Earnest, who has proved to be a great editor and and good friend. There are going to be a lot of other things planned around its release, but approving the cover is a moment that makes it seem shockingly real in a way that I didn’t expect.