Dear Mr. Sandman I heard you may be at the bottom of this glass. All I have to do is keep drinking. So breathing through my nose I’m gulping this remedy passed down to me by my papa and my daddy and probably a few aunties. See I can’t seem to turn my mind off. I’m stuck with these damned thoughts that never go away. Actually, can you guarantee me they won’t come back in my dreams? Some of them are frightening. Some of them are mean. Some of them antagonize me and make me think of things I shouldn’t think of. The visions are really tough.
Can you hear me in there? I know you’re in there. I can’t see you but I’ve been told that this glass filled with liquid poured from this bottle is where people find rest. I can’t see you but I know you’re there. Its funny how people believe in some things so easily.
Mr.Sandman how will I sleep with all that dirt in my eye? Are there side effects? You know there are always side effects. I just want to be normal. I heard you may know what normal is. Mr.Sandman?