He pulls off his cargo shorts and boxer briefs to expose himself to the crowd. He doesn’t say anything — he doesn’t need to say anything. He stands awkwardly to ensure everyone can see both his male and female genitals. Some people in the crowd laugh, but most are just not paying attention. They don’t care. I still don’t understand why he felt the need to do that. I feel sorry for him, but he’s not my concern nor even really my friend. I stand up and walk away.

I meet a co-worker, Z, on top of a tall concrete tower. She’s lying on her back at the very edge, and I’m scared she’s going to fall off. I don’t tell her so, because she seems happy, and I don’t often see her smiling genuinely. I lay down next to her and we talk about what just happened, and Z tells me that my not-quite-friend’s job is being replaced temporarily. I’m more interested in why communication is still being done in his name but she doesn’t know. We guess it’s for the best until he can return.

We talk for awhile, until the stars have come out. A small one man airplane is flying overhead while its green headlight shines on the city below it. Suddenly, the little brown plane begins to fall, although one plane is now two planes. They pull up and circle each other, and tumble nose to tail in some elaborate airshow. They zoom away and for the first time I notice that Z is not actually on the edge of the tower, rather she is wedged up against a wire net. No wonder she’s so happy, I think.

I’m excited. I’m headed toward someplace large and looming. My friend E joins me and we sidetrack to her place. She’s nervous. Her walls are made of glass and people can always see in. To calm her nerves she shows me a paper bag from a lingerie store that she has held onto for years. It’s displayed prominently on her dresser. I ask if she wants to leave with me. She doesn’t.

The someplace towers in front of me, three stories high with yellow, peeling paint. A useless gate is perched perpendicular to the path leading up to the front door. It’s attachment to the top of a large bar makes it seem like a hanger on a clothesline. Another gate door hangs down the line. I jump on and begin to climb. Normally I would be afraid of the height, but the gate feels sturdy and I’m here for fun so I smile and climb higher. I push on the bars and it slides parallel on its tracks toward the other door. I shout at the others hanging off the gate that I’m going to squish them but we realize the bars are offset just so, and that there’s no real harm.

I make my way from the top of the gate to the front porch of the house. A game is taking place. It’s a murder mystery, acted out by the people of the town. I wasn’t assigned a role so I invent one: a mischievous rogue loner who intends to set the people in the jail free. As I pass by the police officer and into the holding cells, he nods at me, and I realize he’s been assigned to be a “bad guy.” I give him a knowing wink. There’s a prisoner leaning against the wall. I raise the bar of his cage to let him out, but the prisoner doesn’t want to leave — he doesn’t really like this game. So much for that.

I head to the right and almost get trampled by a parade of tall creatures wearing elaborate and identical costumes. Their presence alarms me and I fight to get through the crowd to safety.

Flashes of bright lights; explosions! I’m in danger. I run to the nearest building and see a shooter on top pointing his strange weapon straight down to the sidewalk.

I find D, by some miracle, but lose him again as I dash inside a school. Behind a glassed in trophy case, a couple is having sex. I realize they don’t know they can be seen, nor are they aware that the city is under attack. I knock on the window to interrupt and run away again.

The hanging plant is thriving, and taking up most of the limited counter space. Good, I think. To my right, I find that the window to the stairs has become stuck. The first step is higher than my waist, and I know that I can squeeze through the small window to the quilted bed upstairs, but D is going to have some trouble. No matter, we’ll work it out.

M is here! I almost crush her with my hugs and don’t let go until she becomes small in my arms. She’s weak and needs rest. She also needs me to go get something for her. I scoop her up in my hands and make sure she’s comfortably asleep on a pillow before D and I head to the nearby school to find the something for M.

Outside I’m alone. I walk past the school’s swimming pool and remember that I wanted to start swimming as exercise. This pool is uniquely shaped, like a teardrop. I watch for a minute as the two swimmers gracefully breaststroke around edge of the pool, just above the water. I tell D that we should swim more often and turn to find him browsing shelves for the something. Not finding what he’s looking for, he turns away to investigate some interesting looking space-like toys.

As we get ready to leave, two 7-feet tall French girls stop us. They are distressed because their adviser didn’t give them the right visas and now they aren’t able to get home. They have their luggage with them, and are dressed in funny sparkly clothing to match their gold eyelashes. I see they are hoping to get on the plane just outside the doors. I tell them I’m sorry that I’m unable to help and wish them luck. Now behind me, I hear the girls speak in excited tones that they’ve found the visas and head out to the plane, homeward bound.

On the far side of the stream, dozens of toddlers emerge from the forest, running as best they can on their fat stubby legs. They don’t look happy or scared, only determined to cross the stream as fast as possible. As the first small child makes its way into the stream’s rapid current, the angry gorillas come tromping out of the forest in droves. Suddenly, several strong, stocky women are in the water, scooping up the children. I worry that the biggest ones won’t get rescued.

Above me, three cartoonish possums wearing sunglasses and small colorful jackets hop up and down in anger. They are on some sort of platform, which breaks and tumbles them onto the sleeping boar below. No longer cartoonish, they groggily pick themselves up while the boar grunts and snuffles its annoyance.

I realize my group has left me and I go looking for them. I enter a stairwell and begin to make my way up. A door closes behind me. I’m locked in. I turn to see another shorter set of stairs leading to a door. Opening it reveals the back of a pantry. I can’t get through. I start to panic — I feel trapped. I remember the biggest baby in the water and worry it will find me, join me and we’ll get trapped together. I take a deep breath and find another door. It’s triangular shaped but it’s the right one. It leads me out.

I join my group at the bar and recognize who they are: E, J, S, K, L. They tease me for getting lost, not realizing that I was actually scared to be so. I order a tall gin and tonic from the bartender, who disagrees with my order and gives me a Paloma. It’s fine, I say and take it.

I sit by a window with a view of a broken platform.