dreams came between my legs last night. i don't know what between dreams mean. i was in a tenement back courtyard alleyway. there were many girls in panties and bras smiling. somewhere was a photographer it seems who was not me. they smiled for me anyway.
then i'm inside in a strange apartment, a set, and bobby coscarelli is directing the static scene. in this dream i don't feel bad or humiliated. in this dream i'm not working for the man. the assistant peels a polaroid and hands it to me, it is me with a black celebrity. it must have been in the camera all along.

while that's all i can recall, i know the rest is residue. dreams of last night inform the next day. we may have little notion what awaits our return.