In my dream the cabin of the plane sits on the roof, a white a and plastic helmet resting in the remains. On the street, I rummage in a box and find voxel displays of the Trix Rabbit, happy to be picking trash again.

In my dream much scrambled past but all I keep is how jaunty the typeface is.

In my dream the block-long assemblage is now valued somewhere close to fifty million, due to its proximity to North Africa. Look at it.

In my dream we can either make a scene or look down.

In my dream it is radial and highlighted.

In my dream there are just three kinds of splash available.

In my dream it has gone over.

In my dream I suggest the perfect medieval street food: roasted carrot on a stick.

In my dream making a left-hand turn onto a road from a parking lot as another car approaches.

In my dream it’s still down.