In my dream it is dark and rolling. The argument continues.

In my dream the scavenger hunt ends where a treet top brushes against the balustrade of a stone bridge: I reach into the branches and pull out  a couple of gifts, including a scroll that lets me speak to Vincent Price’s granddaughter,who gives me that caftan that her grandfather wore when he would take mushrooms in the Seventies.

In my dream the five of us lay face down in the snow, trying to look dead and listening for the sounds of the other survivors’ horses, so that we can ambush them when they come to investigate us. They are better equipped, so this is going to be hard.

In my dream the fight and the teasing goes on until I bite his finger off. Then I am smirking and hugging with another femme in a room draped in silver pin lights.

In my dream the air is not as gentle as I want it. I look at my hands.

In my dream, I want to leave a message for the radio broadcasters, so I arrange the pins and their hanging chains on the tiny board in front of me.

In my dream night is coming on and I put the little dog down on the crowded porch. He’ll sleep out there.

In my dream we scramble around in front of the dining commons. It’s a casual game.

In my dream I ask for the definition of the food in front of me.

In my dream I hold the bone disc,the three cloths, the watch. Other things are around me. We are chatting , quickly.

In my dream we are trying to get it settled. I have cream . I look down. I have boots.

In my dream I am still.

In my dream my tools are laid out on a table for examination. A creature, a flying furred snake no longer hovers outside: it pokes its face in the air vent, threatening us. Downstairs, they lube the waterslide with swirls of multicolored shampoo.

In my dream there is amber and a man prepares to hunt through the slanting concrete.

In my dream the pool has a boundary. I am eating barbecued meat from a wooden slab.

In my dream the green vinyl dinette chairs are stacked in interlocking patterns ,waiting to be tossed in a garbage truck. When I look at the ladybug in my hand, I can see how much the radiation has mutated it.

In my dream they both move back and forth. A courtyard.