dreams or whatever

Dreaming; the hostage-takers throw me before a woman I’ve never met.  She asks, “How is trans adolescence treating you?” as she points a Kalashnikov rifle at my chest.

I breathe a silent, desperate reply – and find myself gasping in bed.


Then my life continues.  A pleasant clockwork, checklists and procedures, hypotheses at the forefront of my mind, crowding out anything else.  Any dreams or whatever.