Alex Mouse from Fantasyland

Case in point!

The Epilogue of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream:—

First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister's dream.

The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess' knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard's slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sob of the miserable Mock Turtle.

So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again and all would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen's shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle's heavy sobs.

Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long-ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

But who cares?

Sorry Americans, I have more respect for you that some of my peers, but not everything should be about you.

Today is Alice in Wonderland Day.

For those unaware, on 164 years ago, on July fourth of 1862, Charles Dodgeson, the eternal Lewis Carrol, along with Reverend Robinson Duckworth took 10 year old Alice Liddel and her sisters Edith and Lorina on a nice boat trip over the River Thames on a warm sunny day. Over the course of the trip Dodgeson would improvise a nonsensical fairy tale for the Liddel sisters that would become the basis for one of the most important pieces of children's literature of all time.

I think we all need a little bit of Wonderland right now. More and more the modern world makes so little sense. For at least a decade now it seems like we have been stuck in a bad political satire, going from absurd scandal to absurd scandal. At least in Wonderland the nonsense is fun.

Alice continues to be and will always be my biggest kin. I identify so much with Alice. The curiosity, the daydreams, the tendency to give yourself very good advice that you seldom follow. Alice is me and I'm Alice, and I'm not ashamed to say that to this day I still search Wonderlands to lose myself in.

So, on this very fabjous day, maybe we can be like Alice and lose ourselves in Wonderland, one daydream at the time.