In my dream we are gathered to kill someone named Davos.

In my dream a square appears around them, one by one, like they are suspects.

In my dream there is muted betrayal.

In my dream I’m on the second floor landing annoyed that the stairs down have been collapsed once again and someone has fallen to the first floor. It’s thoughtless, has management just forgotten that people use these?

In my dream we are changing things over for the second part of her show at the cafe even though the patrons are already starting to distract each other.

In my dream I’m attending the wedding of Dan Savage at his house. We are stuck at tables that crowd the living room. When the food comes out ,it’s high end versions of fair food: popcorn and cotton candy cake, fried things, so I have to decline it all. The tone among the guests is queeny and cozy. My kaftan looks good.

In my dream we are all leaving and my remaining things are scattered across a few of the bunks that line the walls.

In my dream I end up escorting her through the crowded, run-down fish market, past low-key harassment, like shrimp shells arranged into swastikas on the chipped counters. The wall tanks have electric fish and in a tray of ice, blob fish have been kept alive by being encased in wax.

In my dream it’s rectangular but it’s not a sign.

In my dream we are heading west on Santa Monica in the early evening, with barely anyone else on the darkened street. I’m in the passenger seat and for the first time I’m conscious of the desire to be behind the wheel in  Los Angeles.

In my dream I’m finally in the town house where he has lived for years: the ceilings are high, the rooms are big and dim and each has an altar made of piled plaster and shimmering mica . Another resident compliments my hair. I’ve waited to be here for so long.

In my dream I crawl, climb and slip through the dark trees and buildings, killing the panicked people who hunt me. I use my hands, it takes time, and I don’t stop.

In my dream the meal (jollof rice, stewed vegetables) came out of the back of a dusty watchmaker’s shop that also patches African bronze statues. As I carry my plate I wonder how I am going to get all my stuff back home on the bus I’m due to catch.

In my dream the meal (jollof rice, stewed vegetables) came out of the back of a dusty watchmaker’s shop that also patches African bronze statues. As I carry my plate I wonder how I am going to get all my stuff back home on the bus I’m due to catch.

In my dream there is an elaborate metal and velvet pin cushion.

In my dream I get to the restaurant that serves its food by little rafts that circulate in two moats.  I have a tedious companion: a guy who thinks he’s funny but who is just loud. He asks “what’s with the hats?” and says something about Judaism.

In my dream their sleeping bags are head to head in the front room because they are a couple. I’ll have to bed down somewhere else.

In my dream the soldiers make their way along the submerged wings of the crashed plains to try to get to safety only to find that they are in an ambush, and the other planes are filled with men who shoot them down. Confusion and slaughter.

In my dream the uptown lot is filled with antique wrought iron furniture. The floor is scuffed glass. We are wearing heavy coats.