In my dream the party fills my apartment and then gathers itself up and moves across the street.

In my dream Raja and I are on the set of a TV show, soon to be isolated with a group of queens. The sleeping mats are thin, and the two of us bond over our mutual love of  the work of Greer Lankton.

In my dream he asks me if his boyfriend can be under my desk while I sit there and draw.

In my dream I am disappointed while trying to imagine the correct size for my hand and gauntlet in this staged fantasy. We stand in the entryway while she makes her choice.

In my dream I try to photograph the remains of a scrollwork sign hanging from the corner of a building. It is dark against the dusk sky so I work to set my camera’s flash.

In my dream I play the entire song, gambling that it has enough points to carry me through the rest of the round.

In my dream: more interior storefronts, stilled in dirt.

In my dream she tosses a fan into the mylar garland overhead , and its blades chop the strands into multicolored confetti, blowing it through the crowded shop and out into the street.

In my dream I walk around behind her and take the sample off of the wall. We are trying to culture the oval lesion on its surface. The floor is glossy and treacherous.

In my dream it’s the 1940s and Ella Fitzgerald and I are rating people’s hepness. I wonder why she tolerates me.