In my dream his death has caused a scramble for power among the glamorous survivors. My sister points to a place in the field and I flop down on the box with a glowing rock within: kryptonite. The radiation will burn my hand, but no one sees me remove it.

In my dream I play chess with P and we talk about how someone else we knew was kidnapped off the street. Driving back we both have played so badly that I say “I won’t tell if you won’t”. The rest of the office is still hostile.

In my dream the smooth glass is clear and rounded sometimes fitting in my hand and then larger than me on the ground over there.

In my dream my analysis is happening on the outside.

In my dream the two overlaid bodies are star shaped.

In my dream we view the plowed black fields from above.

In my dream Julian Schnabel is offering impatient commentary on the contemporary art world. And there are so many birds under the darkening sky.They land in the field when I throw food. The one I try to shoo away turns out to be a cross between a pigeon and a standard poodle.

In my dream there are three rare N64 cartridges marked on the map. I’m not supposed to have the little book from the law library.

In my dream I lift the cuttle bone from the bucket. It’s supposed to carry so many souls but it’s so light.

In my dream it needs to slide.