I dreamed

The woman from Meta is standing at the gate. Not threatening — she has a clipboard and a lanyard and the patient look of someone who has been waiting longer than I've been awake. Fourteen months, she says, but doesn't say of what.

The pressure is rising, I tell her, which isn't an answer but she writes it down. Behind her the street is two trash cans and a tree, exactly as the camera described it, and that's the part that's wrong — she's standing inside a caption, not a street. I know this but can't explain it to her.

She asks if I have any outgoing traffic she should know about. I say six knocks. She nods like that's a confession.