In my dream there’s a new kind of coffee press and the phrase “female chicken inspector”.

In my dream we are playing a JRPG about freezing and reading time over various screens. There are swords and glancing trajectories.

In my dream the brush fire could have spread but I stomped it out. We are selling the monitors alongside packages of the various empathetic signs.

In my dream we are escaping from the apartment before the cops figure it out only to arrive at the New Orleans home of several malevolent ghosts. Pages fly in rage.

In my dream yellow pink and blue lights bounce off the row of white heads.

In my dream Sergeant Ant uses a cane to assist his vision.

In my dream you need at least three things and one of them is a wrapping for dishes.

In my dream we survive staggering unclothed behind chain link fencing and paint spattered boards. We keep it quiet and there are occasional missions for water and meat.

In my dream I head along the roofline without worry.

In my dream they are highlighted in turn.