dream

A wooden bench in a narrow alley behind a building, with a half-smoked cigarette on the ground. In the distance, a woman with a baby carriage walks away.

The Summons at the Smokers’ Bench

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There are dreams you wake from laughing, dreams you wake from screaming, dreams you wake from with your body still vibrating from the touch of a creature made of paralysis. And then there are dreams like this one. The dream that is not a nightmare, not a fantasy, not a revelation. The dream that is […]

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A figure stands alone inside a transparent air bubble underwater, while a tall, thin creature with elongated arms presses against the outside of the bubble, surrounding but not touching the figure.

The Paralysis at the Party

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There is a house on Rosemary Street. It exists outside time, a fixed coordinate in the geography of memory and dream. In this house, conversations happen—about men, about nothing—and then, without warning, people are doing pushups on the floor. The absurdity is so pure, so complete, that it jolts you awake, laughing. This is the

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