I dream of jellyfish in toilets in semi-abandoned houses where we play like gleeful children and pretend to be surviving. I dream of you wearing my ring and me wearing yours, even though we already got them for each other. We lay together, intertwined under a yellow sodium streetlight superimposed over the flaking walls and watch B-movies on an old tv. When we close our eyes, the ceiling disappears and the canopy of stars winks at us as if to say ‘there is a reason you are here.’ Ideally, I would love to photograph this scene but I find myself leaving my camera on the nightstand and snuggling up close to you. Except for my trips to the bathroom to pray to the moon jelly. We eat heroes out of cans with bent spoons and tineless forks, savoring the flavor of Batman before we swallow down the dream.