In my dream a red flashlight spins into orbit, sliding under a briefcase. I go on the side door and touch a guy’s wig who is in the show, to be annoying.

In my dream I take my CPAP right off.

In my dream I am in the hotel’s maroon corridor.

In my dream it’s “change in and out of the gown” again and again.

In my dream, A and I meet again in the scrubbed snow, crying in relief that “We did it” even as we don’t really believe that.

In my dream five older people sit in the grass, naked, embracing.

In my dream he hoists the sign through the gap in the terrace door over and over, in a show of android strength.

In my dream the “Lesbian and Gay Center” is about to close for the season. At the final party, an older friend has wrapped a gauzy scarf around her head, tied and cut so that it looks like an elaborate orchid.

In my dream, an apartment building, rubbery.

In my dream the radios seem to have become impossible.

In my dream the classroom talk turns into a performance as we pound the clay on her back into flour. My phones have been stolen.