In my dream a plaid qiuz is also an audition.

In my dream a rooftop with haze.

In my dream the two classes make up one story.

In my dream we must sing to align the metal strips around our mouths. Their amplification can repair the broken foggy signals of the ruined communications grid.

In my dream there is light gray in between the interior and exterior walls and a part that is barely on a ship in the morning.

In my dream it flattens too early.

In my dream paddleboat coronation, for a young woman. It’s good weather and the crown is quite big.

In my dream bags and booklets for dry and wet brining my various phones.

In my dream a batch of loose loud rocks: an audition for everyone.

In my dream the little clay figure from the stoop sale is also a kind of instrument, chiming and hooting as I turn it in my hands. Should I start collecting them?