This morning this appeared at the top of my Flickr contacts page:

I went to Pearlblossom Highway to see what Mike had to say about In Your Dreams. Last night Mike had a dream about money, and poets. Last night I had a dream about money and poets. (I suppose poets dreaming of poets and money is not to be unexpected.) I have a medallion I've been wearing around my neck daily since Stephanie gave it to me for my birthday in February. It's made of some kind of brass-colored metal, some sort of greenish stone, and it has a big 'S' on it. (You can see it clearly, if mirror reversed, in this picture.) In the dream, I am standing with a group of people, of poets, 'after a reading', but it is in the hallway of the annexed offices of SFMOMA, where I work. Alli wants to sell my necklace to get her money back. She collects a lot of bills from all the others, all the money is stuffed in my pockets and my necklace is laid on the counter. I am so filled with rage, helpless anger, big deep feeling of loss over the loved medallion. I yell at Alli and throw all the money at her, which falls down in front of her eyes and over her head, landing under a big green plant in a white pot on the white counter where my medallion is--I've showered her with money.

Parse.