In my dream I’m in a group show installed throughout an apartment. At the opening, the young curators begin to excitedly discuss how many works are selling and how much the Board likes the work when they spot me and ask me to step into another room, implying that mine is the only exception.

In my dream we make it to the vintage shop just before closing, but it’s mostly antiques, not the clothing we were looking for. I pick out a hand painted diorama of the crucifixion that someone has shoved a figure of DC’s Dean into.

In my dream there are laminated pamphlets on the table  for the kids’ workshops going on downstairs.

In my dream I leave the bathroom stacked with bags of concrete and walk under the back deck. M is there and we start playing: hands behind our backs, we lean into each other, pressing our foreheads together. We try to kick each other, all the while saying “rararrrararrrararr” as we circle around in the sand.

In my dream we are about to leave. The floor is smooth.

In my dream I am pissing across a counter and into a sink , trying to catch it in a shallow plastic bag in the dark.

In my dream I cannot finish the sentence  in front of the new animal.

In my dream I’ve traveled to Juneau, Alaska as a pilgrimage to meet the cartoonist who draws “Bloom County”. His home is a slapdash hippie loft at the top of a street, and he’s welcoming in a cool way. I decide O want to see the town since I’m there and start asking the other folks at his party about potential hotels. They scoff as I look out across the cluster of wooden buildings.

In my dream I look to see the latest show curated at my old workplace. One of my colleagues eagerly asks to see the new work, but they’ve made a mistake: what I’ve got in my hands is a blue checked dishcloth.

In my dream it falls to me to evaluate the object on the street. It is round and cold.

In my dream I strew clothes across the floor of the store, so that everyone who crosses will be trapped .

In my dream there is a pale bug crawling across a piece of meat at the bottom of a plate.

In my dream I play with the bulldog puppy, calling him a little butterball and then an older dog waddles over and I warn them both about the alligator that is lurking under the bed clothes.

In my dream a soggy white face made of glue hangs in mid-air.

In my dream the sarcophagus opens and even though we had been running towards it across the plain, we turn and flee, as demons stagger forth, some mounted on fraying tigers, some made of oily soot. Their numbers will grow.

In my dream I meet my mother with my sister while they are eating at a folding table set up on the sidewalk. My mom is disgusted with me because I’m still not wearing any shoes out on the street after all this time. There’s no way to make it right.

In my dream I talk myself into a room of pink taffy crunch and brain-dimmed pleasure. This is an ongoing negotiation.

In my dream Douglas Crimp grabs me from behind and wraps his arms and legs around me,attempting to pull me over. “These philosophers!” I joke,”It’s always Greek-style wrestling with them”.