The moments of greatest wonder occur for me when the clock strikes midnight. What happens as the day’s change? Do the little people come out and brush the dew that we find on our grass in the morning? Do the people who run the Water Company, energy service, and gas stations celebrate another day of people shelling out for their basic needs of living? Do the werewolves, giants, vampires, and lizard-men stalk the world and create the news that we watch at breakfast? What happens in that night?

The werewolves would go downtown to the discotheque and get to know the ladies and the DJ better. The giants would be the ones who create crops circles, not aliens (though they do exist). The underground lizard-men, when they are not planning to retake their lost planet, fight crime on the streets. They do want their planet to be tidy. The vampires would protest for vampire rights, but since it’s at night, no one can really hear them. And the little people, after they finish dewing our lawns, spend the rest of the night calling Peter Dinklage a sell-out, saying that Dinklage creates the myth that, “being a dwarf is cool.”

And all of this would never be known, since we are all sleeping in our beds, dreaming of even more ridiculous situations.