First dream

I dreamt I was throwing seed to the birds from our window. The apartment building turned into an oceanliner tearing up the harbor; the birds could not keep up. I called you to say the ship was stuck at a light on Grand Army Plaza, and realized it was now a bus. Soon thereafter it became a bicycle and I was picking my way through back alleys lined with shops. I collapsed, unfolded, collapsed again the bicycle for some bystanders, who were impressed. Then I stepped out into the street with the folded bicycle on a leash, as if it were a dog. I stood a while gazing at the house across the street: the floor-to-ceiling window on the second floor was crowded with an enormous bedframe of dark wood.