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.

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.