In my dream I am slowly arranging the type on a cream colored board.

In my dream people keep cutting in front of me to get on the elevator.

In my dream I bounce the tail end of a fat dachshund back and forth between my hands while his tongue lolls out and his eyes narrow in pleasure.

In my dream the important part of the billboard is the back. I can finally grab the cyst on my ankle.

In my dream there isn’t whole lot of time to shop in the cinder block mall in Singapore before my flight out. I run into a friend at a music store and while I really want to buy random batches of dj white label 12″s from the bins, there’s no way they will fit in my luggage. The owner tells us they have CDs, but when he plays some it’s just bad covers of US rockabilly songs. I still haven’t found shoes.

In my dream I’m taking possession of my new apartment. It’s on the seventh floor of my old building, on the south side. A sheet of thick, dirty water has frozen smooth on the balcony outside. I try to frame a photo of it.

In my dream I sit down with my therapist in the aftermath of the overnight performance. While a couple of other people tidy, we try to settle into a session. The previous night I ordered a chicken thigh and fried cauliflower at a blacked out restaurant to prepare.

In my dream the printer is putting out the third of the basswood chairs I need for the office.

In my dream the plan is to defeat the aliens by uplifting teams of psychics to the flat battleships, letting them infiltrate the crowds, and then deflecting the mental attacks when they are mounted.

In my dream , before I can forbid her, she blithely perches on the outside of  my apartment’s window sill even though we are four stories up. I am torn between terror and fury.

In my dream it’s almost time for the party at our loft.

In my dream I align a sequence of collages to make a vehicle move.

In my dream E inches her car out of  the tightly parked vehicles along Canal Street. I am tempted to offer to drive.

In my dream I am starting to question the wisdom of returning to the school I teach at for a second MFA, especially since I haven’t planned out anything for my show. I’m trying to recruit some people to carry lit pumpkins for the Halloween parade.

In my dream the bronze Wilfredo Lam sculpture stands over the show I’ve curated. Metal strips peel from its body just like the flesh peels from mine.

In my dream we can’t move the shallow dish.

In my dream the theatre lobby has become the stalking ground of a demon. It has abducted my mother. It shifts from form to form until I corner it in the shape of a potato which I stab over and over again.

In my dream the green water tower is a difficult and murky climb. We take the circuit board with us.

In my dream our scheme with the clay and covering our mouths just isn’t going to work.

In my dream R is performing at an event and I work up my courage and tell them how much I admire that work and how much I want to talk about art, especially Greer Lankton, with them. It seems to be working since they are winding their arms around me, despite how toungetied I am.