I may have been dreaming AWP dreams last night as I had two distinct dreams with two distinct poets. The first dream was fairytale dark and lovely. Ana Carrete and I had big push brooms and we were sweeping the longest dock ever. The dock stretched out over the ocean. It was night and warm maybe summer and we were whispering and laughing as we swept. The next dream was with Laura Gamache who actually is at AWP. There were many women at Laura's house women inside women outside standing around talking the way friendly nice intelligent socially adept people do at parties and there some talk of having to join I had to join a club or a sorority to be part of the party and Laura had a scroll out a long scroll that I had to sign and I wanted to sign it I wanted to be part of it all but the pen kept slipping out of my hand or it would skitter off the page when I tried to write my name and Laura kept telling me very patiently to take it slow and I'd be okay but I knew I'd never be okay that I'd never be part of the party. This dream is not nearly as myterious as sweeping an immense dock in the ocean because it's pretty much how it goes for me. Every day. They were both good dreams and I blame the dreaming of poets on my brilliant editor Reb Livingston who started it.