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.

In my dream the play she is directing (more an oratorio) is getting away from her: the author and star is running roughshod. I offer to give her notes and help her out even though I shouldn’t for everyone’s sake.

In my dream the box barricades are well over my head on this, the middle floor of the UN. Just outside is the carton with two types of dark brown teddy bears, so I take one of each.

In my dream the water is clear as it goes over the dam but they won’t let me have a towel.