In my dreams there are smoke detectors and crashes and lies. There is a kiss in an atrium right before it catches fire. There is placate, stay straight, evacuate. Neodymium nitrate always smells a certain way and always looks a certain blue. Why does an alarm go off after I dream I've kissed you, but never if you kiss me? What doesn't my brain want me to see? As Orion slinks into view I stand mixing solvents at the centrifuge. There is always a healthy dose of things I don't know. Always something for Orion to pin with her next arrow. If I am not here, asking questions of the world, demanding answers from what I put into test tubes, the next thing could be you.