Late last week, after Dorothy fell asleep,
A rain drop leaked from her ceiling onto her cheek.
And soon her mind was caught in a travelling thought,
One that she once knew well but then forgot:
When was the last time I crossed the street?
And what if on that day I was hit by a car,
and knocked my head so hard i fell into a coma?
And now I’m living in a dreamland conspiracy
where everything is the same as reality,
But with one exception:
No one in my dream can change,
They are stuck the way I knew them,
But I am changing so much, and so fast.
And what if I were to kill myself in dreamland–
Something I am always too shy to try–
Would I wake up in a moon white gown
With everyone I know around
And say, "you've all changed so much,"?
And would I get to know them all again?
Would I remember dreamland?
Would I tell anyone?
Would a normal person think this up?
Am I abnormal?
I should get to sleep.
So Dorothy thought up some cotton candy sheep,
And counted herself into a deep and dreamless sleep.
But she will have this same thought again next week,
Just like the rain from her ceiling, it will leak.