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.

In my dream I’m doing a gig at an LA nightclub with Vaginal Davis where we interview each other and goof around.  I’m wearing mossy oak camo pants and an open vest over my hairy breasts. The second act has all these model buildings they are moving around backstage.

In my dream the animals are near.

In my dream I’m angry because they show us the same device again: a low rectangular box with a few ports on the side.

In my dream we are closing the accordion gate on the door when a green concrete sphere falls to the sidewalk from an upper story.

In my dream her head is still and serene. Her eyes are open. Someone says “Find what matters.”

In my dream three of us head down the street on the way to investigate a heist. As we pass the construction on our left, a man emerges from a door and falls into step behind me. A couple of careful glances and I can see that he is the doppelganger of the man walking in front of me.

In my dream a jovial bus employee has brought his beautiful infant daughter to work in a carrier. “She’s gonna be running this place pretty soon ” I say aloud after seeing her alert smile.

In my dream I am hoping for love from him as the light turns around the room.