The night before last, I dreamed of Rahul sitting up in our bed and drawing beautiful chalk pictures of flowers all over the wall. There were deep blue irises veined and frosted with pink, and stylized gardenias with separate creamy petals outlined in a darker shade, and deep green leaves.

Last night, I dreamed that we had stolen the Mona Lisa and I had wrapped it up in newspaper and put it into my blue backpack. We were riding BART to get away, and my backpack was across the aisle from me. For a moment, I thought someone had stolen it, but then I found it again. The painting was so surprisingly small and light that I hadn’t realized it was actually there in my bag.