In my dream the wrapped sweaters fall through my hands to the darkened floor between my feet.

In my dream I want to give her one of the antique transparencies as a gift to encourage her singing, but as I look through them it’s clear that they are all nudes.

In my dream the street light is behind my head.

In my dream I’ve sat in the quiet until I can’t see my feet.

In my dream my costume is a stack of wooden balls.

In my dream I say “it’s a bummer, this isn’t even my apartment any more.”

In my dream K is having a new show: the walls of the gallery are painted a deep peacock blue and on the floor is a hand-drawn certificate in sepia ink that reads “ONE HUNDREDS MILLION BUCKS”. K bounces in, looking lovely.

In my dream my feet are covered in porridge as I attempt to put the jumpsuit on. There’s no getting around the mess.

In my dream I’ve decided that my turn in the talent show will be to sing a ditty while trying to balance an absurdly large cap and bells on my head. I need to run out and buy a leotard and a pair of dance flats to complete the look and then get back in time. Obstacles keep popping up.

In my dream I feel the tension roll through my shoulders. The light comes on over a table at the back of the room.

In my dream I’m carrying a friend’s cat in my arms and trying to make my way across an overgrown garden. I see several aggressive foxes hiss at each other and make short leaps. I worry about rabies and how I will keep them away if they discover the animal I’m holding.

In my dream a haughty young woman flounces into my publishers’ office, sure that they are going to take on her new lifestyle book, and demanding to speak to their media “rehearsal coach” . Disinterested, the actual staff wander off to lunch, leaving me there deal with her.

In my dream I am moving towards a kind of peace. I feel how heavy the handle is in my hand.

In my dream I am walking my dog, a Boston terrier, on the block outside of my childhood apartment. The pleasure of being with him is so great that I set off towards Central Park. It’s then that I notice how thin his haunches are and rember his age. It comes upon me that I can’t bear his death again.

In my dream the vender sells chuncks of chicken in sauce. I come back to the room to pack all the photos into a leather sleeve.

In my dream there is a hedge.

In my dream I am trying to convince myself to hold a dog.

In my dream the yellow files are plastered across the walls and furniture.

In my dream I find an entire second trunk stuffed with notebooks, board games and other miscellaneous stuff in the living room of the apartment I’m moving out of. I feel hopeful that it might contain some toys and books iveissed for years.