A: Alice

Alice

July 4, 1862

My dear Alice,

It’s fine to enjoy a tea party every so often, and it’s certainly fun to go on adventures, provided that one is adequately supplied to prepare for all conceivable eventualities. That said, however, your recent escapade seems more like a nightmare than an actual outing. 

I understand that you enjoy sitting in your field and talking to all the animals that abound there. But a talking rabbit that you follow down a rabbit hole? Who, I wonder could possibly believe such a story? I can imagine trying to follow a rabbit and tripping over the hole, although those holes are rather small.

Speaking of holes and small, seeing something on a table labeled “Drink Me” doesn’t justify drinking it. Likewise the cake in the box. Is it any wonder you had all those hallucinations? I suspect it was the result of some hallucinogenic concoction in the drink and cake.

Regarding the talking caterpillar, I wonder if there is any creature you are incapable of speaking with.  And then he persuades you to sample a wild mushroom! Have you learned nothing from your parents, nursemaids, and teachers? 

As for that pigeon, pig-child, or whatever it was, and the Cheshire  Cat, I can only observe that your stories sometimes go a bit too far.

That was quite a tea party you got yourself invited to, the participants of which had some rather unusual eating habits and modes of conversation. 

And where does this little adventure end up but in the Queen’s Croquet-Ground, where croquet is played with live flamingos as mallets and live hedgehogs as balls–certainly not an easy game to play. And does that peculiar queen ever say anything besides, “Off with his or her head”? 

As for that robbery, I wonder who gets arrested for stealing tarts? Why is taking some food an offense? How long did that trial take? 

And then you wake up from a dream. Rather a cliche, don’t you think?

Someone should write a book about these dreams of yours, dear Alice. It would be a classic. Perhaps I’ll take a shot at it myself. I’ll be sure to let you know if it turns out.

                 Your friend,

                            Charles Lutwidge Dodgson

 p.s. If I do write this story, I would probably opt not to use my real name. What do you think of the name Lewis Carroll?