In my dream wading through stacks of instructions then: “Ugh, nobody wants to do a shot!”

In my dream when I arrive at the top floor every surface is covered in undulating tiles of marble: it’s now a hospital for the remaining aged members of this blindingly wealthy family. They gasp and plod among the doctors and lights. I’m leaving and how will I find the things I had stashed earlier?

In my dream there is cabbage cooked in red wine near Rockefeller center and a fur coat on the stones.

In my dream when I put on the black cotton cassock and kiss his feet as he walks, it’s kind of a joke and also kind of a fetish thing.

In my dream the fight starts bitter and ends as an inconclusive tussle: stuff is strewn around, people are winded. Later the art we made about each other is laid out on painted plinths.

In my dream Bill is the reason I’m at Litter Box the drag club, running into exes and deciding I had better go when he shoves a box of stuff into the dressing room for the SECOND time which means that the dogs start barking and we have to run for it again along the street, gasping, “You asshole!”

In my dream it’s pitted and glossy black.

In my dream watching things blink into existence.

In my dream the chenille rugs are blue and dirty, but I fold them because I’m packing all the family stuff from this antique shop: the letters, the pressed glass, bits of toys.

In my dream the cartoon fox gets a new invisible outfit which allows him to do kick flips and other tricks with the pillow case.

In my dream a peaceful passage in a black car.