Bill takes me outside to a bar on the Lower East Side. I stand there and sheepishly go through my things and find the source of the noise. Seems like I’m carrying a purse, a backpack, and another tote bag. I slowly rummage through all of them, feeling increasingly anxious and embarrassed. Finally I locate the source of the horrible noise. It’s an old, broken alarm clock, the old-fashioned kind with a bell on top.

I step away to dispose of the offending clock properly, leaving Bill to watch my bags. When I return, Bill is gone. The bar has been closed for a private party to celebrate a wedding reception. I peer inside the bar, looking for my belongings, but they’re gone.

I panic and start frantically asking around if anyone has seen Bill or my bags. I do a mental rundown of everything that I left: wallet, keys, laptop, phone, iPad.

I start wandering the neighborhood and decide to go into the park across the street. The park isn’t well-maintained, and the grass has lots of brown patches and places where it’s worn away to dirt. I find a spot to sit down and ponder what I’m going to do next. As I’m sitting there, a number of people come up and start crowding around me. I’m annoyed because I feel like I need space.

The UP calls me and somehow persuades me to attend. I say that I can come but that I’ll have to bring my dog. Soon I appear at the UP’s apartment. The apartment is lovely and spacious. My dog immediately curls up and goes to sleep, and I’m surprised that she feels so comfortable in the space.

I’m the only person there, and the UP is friendly and generous. I’m offered a slice of cake, and when I say that I think it’s delicious, half the cake is wrapped up for me to take home. As we walk around talking, various other offers are extended, like suggestions to get together in the future or recommendations for places I might like to go.

I notice a framed photo sitting on a shelf. It’s a strange image, as it’s of a large crowd of people and the photo is quite blurry. Still, I think I can see myself and some of my friends in the photo. It looks like it was taken about 25 years ago. I express my surprise and confusion about this photo, and the UP says that it came from a family member. The UP’s father was a photographer.

I start to feel bad because I’m the only person at the party. Then another person that I don’t know appears from the other room; he had been taking a nap in the bedroom. We all stand around in the kitchen talking, and I realize that I’m having a good time.

I have a knife — like a small sword, really — that I plan to use to kill myself. I’m hiding it under my jacket as I travel along the conveyor belt. I run into someone else on the belt who is pregnant. She tells me that she should get to use the sword first, and I give it to her, and watch her cut herself open.

She throws a party at a bar. She sends an old-fashioned paper invitation in the mail.

She has blonde hair, fair skin, and wears bright red lipstick. She sits on a barstool in the middle of the floor.

Attention needs to resume on the freezing point of water in beverages.

I give her Google searches on the subject.

We’re supposed to move, pick up and out of the bar.

nice framing of a photograph, like digital assembly of elements that were pre-determined to align
like sets on a stage