Last year I woke up spitting on my pillow. My mouth was blood filled because a tooth fell out. Then I read that this dream warns the sleeper of change. Deciduous, it said, means to shed. So I decided to focus instead on the thoughts inside my head. I got a dress and learned to make beds. And mess them up. On the springy ones I would buck like a horse and neigh loudly. It felt serious (if I were a horse, but I was not) and then I got caught. So I focused instead on lofting the sheet to fall perfectly on the form. Sometimes I would loft the seams against the inside and have to start over so crooked bodies beneath the sheet would feel the smoother side of the two.