I had a dream last night of which I remember a small portion. I had lost twenty dollars at some sort of art gallery, a small one, that felt more like a bar than a gallery. I knew everyone who worked there. A woman I knew found the twenty dollars but refused to acknowledge she'd done so. I hounded her throughout the course of an evening, but she refused to give in. I went home and then came back the next day.

When I arrived I could see her talking to her friend, another woman, it may have been her lover. She held the twenty furtively near her purse. I heard her say she planned to drop the bill in the stall of the bathroom and that she would let someone else find and return it. I waited while she entered the stall.

There happened to be two stalls, both of which were inside the bar. There were no walls separating the bathroom from the main area of the gallery. I wandered into another room to kill some time. A board meeting seemed to be going on. I was surprised to discover how many of my friends were on the board.

When the woman with my money wandered in to attend the board meeting, I slipped out, fell to my knees and began feeling around with my fingers under the stall doors for the bill. I eventually had to reach in near the toilet to pull it out. Satisfied, I returned to the room where the board meeting had taken place.

It had ended by then and people seemed to be milling about, chatting, having a drink. I sat down at a booth, Charles Bernstein also sat down. He pulled out a stack of xeroxed sheets with large text printed on them All the text seemed to have been cut off at the left margin. Charles began to explain in great detail what the cause of the missing margin happened to be. I got distracted by something else. I I don't remember what. I remember feigning interest, though I had stopped paying attention to his explanation.