He suddenly falls into a hole of darkness.
Like Alice through the looking glass, he tumbles into confusion.
Everything small is now big.
Nothing makes sense.
But the blue caterpillar must listen to his identity crisis.
There is no logic to it.
It’s madness without the tea.
It’s a procession of cards.
He must call them out before they swarm –
to stop the imaginative happenings.
I want to wake him from his dream.
I need him sitting beneath the tree with me.