Dear Wigleaf,

There's this scene in Return to Oz when Dorothy sneaks into the bedroom of the sleeping, headless queen to steal the key to the cabinet where she keeps the Powder of Life. Dorothy unties the key from a ribbon around her wrist then tiptoes into the gallery where the queen's many severed heads sit on display, asleep. The powder is locked up next to the most evil head, also the most beautiful, with pink and gold eyeshadow and shimmery bits in her hair. Dorothy wakes it up by accident, and it wails in a slow groan, "Dorothy Gale!" Then all hell breaks loose. The headless body pops upright and the severed heads freak out at once, their eyes wide, screaming.

I guess I've been feeling a bit like Dorothy lately, wanting the Powder of Life, trying so hard not to wake some slumbering giant, but I can't escape its many severed heads. I wish I were the headless queen, asleep, no thoughts to wake me. Last night I dreamt my friend had turned into a space alien, the scary kind Sigourney Weaver fought. He was eating a raw starfish, little spurts of water bursting from his mouth as he chomped down, greedy for more. I don't know what it means. I like starfish. I like aliens. I like my friend. And yet I was horrified. I woke up just like that queen: her startled body in search of a head, trying to see who wronged her.

Sincerely,
Patrick