It was a beautiful morning. It was so sunny that I walked yards through the park without seeing anything but white light.  This can be dangerous if you don’t know your territory. But I did, don’t worry. I know Central Park. It’s my orgy, my toilet, my dining spot, my meditation retreat. It’s a zoo. Birds, squirrels, raccoons running wild. Dogs off their leashes until 7 a.m. It was the perfect morning.

And then I saw a man, dressed for work, carrying an umbrella. I didn’t like that he knew something I didn’t. I was irked by his preparedness.

Earlier that morning I couldn’t get out of bed. I’d woken up from a dream that I was in a car with friends and we were driving to my boyfriend’s funeral. In reality, my boyfriend is fine. That’s what makes dreams like this so debilitating. No umbrella.