In my dream we are taking a bus down to a protest. When we get there we have to line up according to a system of color coded shields painted on the curb.

In my dream I double back for food.

In my dream I am walking uptown through the night on Sixth Avenue. I carry a sheet of installation foam and every time I look behind myself, it seems that all of the power has gone out, all of downtown unlit. The Dairy Queen on Twenty -third street has free samples of “nut fries”.

In my dream I return to the loft to pack for my trip only to find that they’ve thrown out a bunch of my stuff, including the antique portable hi-fi that I had organized everything around.

In my dream there is a glade.

In my dream we are reviving each party member as a matter of course. The grass is still.

In my dream I am holding hexagonal tubes.

In my dream I’ve compiled all of my junk mail into a book called “Nayland Blake Vs The World”. I’m carrying a printout of it around the building with me . I’ve left my shoes on the fourth floor in my studio. The elevator floor is wet.

In my dream I’m in LA and have made it across Fairfax and almost all the way up to the counter of the 60’s donut shop when I notice that most of the facade is just photos on plywood and that it’s all shut down.

In my dream the white fur passes the end of the hallway.

In my dream I toss the dog’s toy under the bush, and then realize that a skunk-like bird and cluster of cats have collected there. I prepare to fish it out and see one of the cats emphatically spraying to mark territory.

In my dream we are all on the floor.

In my dream I’m eager to get started working in the shared studio space a younger man has set up in the sprawling warehouse. People are making things, there are possibilities.