In my dream there is nothing and it moves.

In my dream the dog has my keys clipped to his collar and because I’m not holding his leash he starts trotting off into the darkened street. I head after him calling “Stop Lehigh, stop” but he ignores me. I get more frantic, and call louder until I realize that that isn’t his name, it’s my previous dog’s name and now I need to remember his.

In my dream the power outlets are light green with varied amounts of fuzz. I hang them from my belt.

In my dream I turn the plastic decorations over in my hands. The soft vinyl has cracked and separated, leaving the heads lopsided on their necks.

In my dream a woman proudly carries the prize winning rooster through the crowded streets of downtown Brooklyn.

In my dream R is visiting from Europe and her new work is astonishing: elaborate drawings of entwined bodies and planned installations. She has transformed herself: her limbs are gone below the elbows and knees and across her back is a detailed tattoo of a hairy chest with defined abs. She has gone so far. I’m stunned and jealous.

In my dream the chunks of glass are glued to the rocks.

In my dream I feel that I’ve solved it.

In my dream the trembling dog leaps into my arms and her shaking reminds me that I haven’t taken care of her for days. The flood of guilt wakes me.

In my dream: three gray flashes at the edge of vision.

In my dream the sirens go off a few blocks over and I turn to my friends in exasperation, saying “I am so over him” meaning the mayor.

In my dream it is unclear if he is alive or not.