In my dream he hoists the sign through the gap in the terrace door over and over, in a show of android strength.

In my dream the “Lesbian and Gay Center” is about to close for the season. At the final party, an older friend has wrapped a gauzy scarf around her head, tied and cut so that it looks like an elaborate orchid.

In my dream, an apartment building, rubbery.

In my dream the radios seem to have become impossible.

In my dream the classroom talk turns into a performance as we pound the clay on her back into flour. My phones have been stolen.

In my dream layers of paint have been cut away from the lobby wall, revealing a plaque that reads “1904 LOVE AND LAWLESS”

In my dream we are expressing the glittering caulk across the grass.

In my dream the young hippo is crammed into the chapel, barely able to turn around, but happy when I scratch her head. Outside, bulbous pink fungi cling to the trees, meaning that we can’t go near.

In my dream the order of the cards determines where we go.

In my dream I clamber around a spindly structure, ten stories up, so that I can photograph his iced coffee. Later a search for a bathroom on the ground leads to singing “Respect Yourself” with a joyful guitar player on the street.