feathered dogs, by Jennifer
I follow a woman into the front door of my building. I’m concerned because I think she’s barging into my apartment, but then it turns out to be someone else’s apartment. There’s a dinner party going on. My friends and I (some of the people at the Oneironauticum and some other people) sit at the table and start eating the food. There’s fried potatoes and greens. We’re not exactly welcome, since we’re consuming their meal, but then the hosts forget about us and it’s OK.
I’m in the bedroom of one of the hosts. He’s in the adjoining bathroom talking to me through the door. His two small, feathered dogs frolic on the bed, getting up on hind legs to do little tricks. They’re incredibly soft.