Picasso

I dreamt that my dog Picasso was no bigger than a leaf, fluttering around. He was growing day by day and then suddenly, as if I had lost a chunk of time in my life, he was big. Then my assistants were carting a bunch of musical instruments down many flights of wooden stairs in the middle of the night. "We have to hurry," they said, "rehearsal is at six." Six? I'm thinking, but surely it's p.m. and this is four in the morning....

This whole dream is about time being out of joint...