In my dream I’m about to walk upstairs in the parking structure when some headlights above me get too close. I don’t want a conversation, so I hide behind the wall.

In my dream I realize that after days of hanging out with this theater group I could just stop sleeping on the floor and walk home, with a stop at my favorite bookstore.

In my dream we all hunt each outer like this: identify suitable prey, present hunter ID card and attack with bladed weapons. My father is close to being caught and I search for a hiding place: out the back door, through the arching reeds and ultimately on the neighbor’s cluttered roof. I inject my insulin.

In my dream they pop up on the paper, like a board game you walk across.

In my dream I am driving towards a wall while my head switches.

In my dream I crawl across the plaza on my belly, hoping to turn a corner and disappear from view.

In my dream a small group is playing golf on a patched hill.

In my dream the shell of the turtkeychain flips open and a small pencil sharpener slots into the revealed cavity. Is it on the carpeted floor of the shop like a patient sub.

In my dream I walk through the Bronx and down into Manhattan, past stone bridges where an older woman is selling used clothes and luggage , past a nighttime neighborhood where the men are amputees asleep in the corners of subway entrances. I am followed, mocked and threatened. Something in the air smells delicious.

In my dream I can see the posts in the dark room.

In my dream two guys take up so much time with their petty fight that the rest of us lose the chance for the games that we had borrowed from the library so we just go home.

In my dream I hold black plastic tent pegs. I waltz with my mother.

In my dream the woods have white muslin dresses to dance in and the work bench has a filament printed snail shell.

In my dream there is a rainbow-colored data cable and Milla Jovovich appearing as a pokemon trainer. I can’t understand why she is carrying two katanas.

In my dream there is a concrete slab in the courtyard as I come down the wooden stairs. In the twilight I can make out the impression of a pair of jeans and a denim jacket and I wonder how many other homespun monuments are laid out on campuses around the country.

In my dream people at the party notice that the braid in my beard now reaches the floor, but that is only because the center section has become detached and is held on by a few strands of hair. I am introduced to a klingon and their offspring and there are so many of them that I wonder if they are born in litters, like puppies.

In my dream I barely see the vehicles.

In my dream I arrive to see the start of the day at the vegetable market: brigades of leafy plants swarming across pallets, arranging themselves into enticing displays on the cardboard. So abundant!

In my dream I pull until molars from the hunks of my rotting jaw bone. It feels inevitable.

In my dream I can’t get used to the fact that our apartment is now on the ground floor of the building, so that our balcony looks out onto the street.