In my dream there are twice as many students in the classroom than at the beginning of the session; an impossible number. Their casual chatter drowns out my attempts to get their attention and one young person is circulating from group to group whispering about how the staff is resigning.

In my dream they all float in the underpass: the paired iridescent objects, waiting to be selected.

In my dream three heads line up at the back of the brown room.

In my dream: dull metal.

#MeWhwnTheyPlayMyJam’

In my dream  the final piece of birthday cake has a doll’s yellowed ribcage on it and it’s necessary to the plot that we get him to touch it.

In my dream I get out the silk tie and harness for my dog who is rolling around on the snowy tabletop.  Lately she has really enjoyed when Madonna comes by to walk her.

So it’s been fifteen years of service to The Gnome King, one of my co-conspirators/sweeties. He’s an attorney AND a pastry chef, and that most dangerous thing: a top who pays attention. He’s been using my own words against me for over a decade and I love him for it. #poly

In my dream my phones are back in my hotel room with my wallet and while the darkened streets of LA fill with young people hazing each other I get further away from retrieving any of them.

In my dream he is trying to wave me into his performance but I don’t know what he wants.

In my dream I head downstairs through the grey loft building to escape the conference of curators before the entertainment begins: Rob Lowe singing “The News Blues”. On the ground, I’m captured by the queer zines on sale in a shop and know what I need to make next.

In my dream I am receiving delivery of garbage bins for an augmented reality game.