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The dream was instant and intense.

I was falling. Falling deep into a dark hole. Then, I was on the ground looking down an earth tunnel toward an opening at the far end. “What is this, a hobbit hole?”

I asked as I stared out of the opening.

I crawled toward it, but the closer I got, the narrower the tunnel grew. Finally, I noticed a door and a small, intricately designed key on a wooden side table. “Okay, that’s weird,” I said.

I reached for it, but the narrow tunnel elongated, and the door and table were too far for me to reach. Just then, I noticed a handwritten sign next to a bottle of my granddaddy’s favorite whiskey that said, “Drink me.”

“Fuck is this?”

I asked. No one answered. I figured it was a dream, so I might as well have a swig or two. I picked the bottle up and said, “Bottoms up,”

before taking a drink.

“Blah, that’s bad, not whiskey, not whiskey!”

I yelled, trying to spit out the disgusting licorice, mud-flavored liquid.

I backed away, only to find I had suddenly become smaller, and the key looked miles away. “What on Earth?”

I asked, but again, no one answered. “There’s no way I’m going to get to that key, is there?”

I backtracked, thinking maybe I'd figure something out if I went in the other direction. I had only walked a few steps before I stumbled upon a piece of cake. I didn’t need to read the note. I had already figured out where the dream was headed.

I’m in Alice in Wonderland. I’m freaking Alice!

I popped the cake into my mouth, and sure enough, I grew twice the size, having to rush to the broader part of the tunnel. I barely remembered the story since it’d been a decade or more since I’d read the book.

I looked around and immediately saw a path I knew would be there, and quickly began following it, letting the dream take me.

Of course, I met the rabbit, Mr. Hendrix, my old primary school teacher. I’d always thought he was gay, totally high-strung, and tough as freaking nails. “Mr. Chris, you're late, always late,”

he said, checking his watch, tutting, and disappearing down some bizarre rabbit hole.

Of course, he’d dropped his gloves. It was amazing I remembered any of the story, but I remembered that part and tried putting them on—only one fit.

I wandered the path, met a mouse, found a house, and threw pebbles at the house, only to have Mr. Hendrix in rabbit form come out and chastise me. “Now, why do you have my glove, and where’s the other one?”

I’d completely forgotten about the glove. But I pulled it off and handed it to him, even though it was now twice the size it had been when I put it on.

“Young man, you’ve ruined my glove with those enormous hands. Where’s my other glove?”

“Um, sorry, I lost it in all the commotion,”

I said, feeling every bit as young as I had when I was a kid.

“You’re a naughty student,”

Rabbit Hendrix said. "Late, always late!”

He turned and waddled off, and honestly, I’d forgotten how much Mr. Hendrix had fussed at me until the dream. Unfortunately, I also remembered how much trouble I had during those tumultuous years getting to class on time.

At that point in the dream, I was convinced the soothsayer had drugged me. She had to have. That explained her making me feel so weird when she touched me and her warning about bizarre dreams.

When I turned and saw the giant caterpillar, I laughed out loud. Einotcha Bey was the queen who ran all the shows at The Queen’s Cut. She had flirted with me so hard it became a running joke with the queens and go-go boys who worked there.

Einotcha was at least six-two, maybe more, weighed well over three hundred pounds and was at least twice my age. She wasn’t my type, but I adored her. Regardless, I learned early on not to get too close if I didn’t want her hands exploring the recesses of my body.

“Baby,”

caterpillar Einotcha said, drawing my attention. “It took you long enough to get here. Now, you know what to do, eat that mushroom over there.”

Unlike normal, Einotcha was dressed in a caterpillar outfit. The colors were psychedelic, covering her whole body, even with a hood that sprouted antennas.

“How do I get out of this dream?”

I asked, only to get a laugh from her.

“Child, you know ain’t nothing that easy. If you want this dream to end, you need to find yourself, Linc—find your inner diva. And while you’re at it, put some clothes on.”

His smile grew more mischievous. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I looked down and realized for the first time since I started dreaming, I was stark naked. To the laughter of Einotcha, not knowing what else to do, I rushed to where the mushrooms were, plucked one, and tossed it into my mouth.

Even in my dream, my head spun, and the world went black.

When I woke, I was lying on the floor of the same ‘hobbit hole’ as before, but I was wearing an ugly yellow sequined gown that likely would’ve fit Einotcha. It was way too big for me. I looked closer and laughed when I saw the sequins were, in fact, tiny little mushrooms.

Now, I could reach the table that held the key. I picked it up, went to the door, and opened it. The shrooms meant I was the perfect size to pass through.

There were a lot of ups and downs in the dream. Where my mind couldn’t remember the details of the story, it filled in the gaps with bizarre scenes. Each of the scenes held a piece of clothing for me. Although, nothing fit properly.

By the time I got to the Mad Hatter’s tea party, I was wearing lace gloves, stilettos that were impossible to walk in, and multiple strings of pearls some fishlike creature gave me when I passed through a walled garden and saved it from the clutches of a screeching bird.

I caught sight of myself in a mirror. It was labeled ‘mirror,’ but it had been crossed out, and someone had handwritten ‘looking glass’ underneath. I looked like I’d gotten lost in a thrift store. My hairy legs showed under the gown, and my beard made it clear I was never going to be confused with anything but the hillbilly redneck I was.

I walked to where the Mad Hatter, a woman I’d met in college who called herself a drag king, danced around the table. “Linc, you made it!”

he crooned, then took his top hat off and bowed.

“Hello, Michell.”

That was the name he went by in drag—otherwise, she was Michelle. Not original, I know.

“Sit, sit, we’re about to begin,”

he said, pointing to a chair painted in an array of colors. Not in any artistic way; more of a, this is the paint we have left, so let’s paint it haphazardly on these chairs, sort of way.

I sat and laughed as I looked around the table to see many of the creatures I’d encountered on the way. The mouse who had joined rabbit Mr. Hendrix in yelling at me for throwing pebbles at his house sat on the table in a teacup, clearly drunk off his ass.

“Hey, what’s in this tea?”

I asked, only to have the entire party look at me, annoyed. They ignored me and went back to their merriment.

I watched each creature perform ridiculous acts, mostly reciting poetry that made no sense. The Mad Hatter did a strange hat trick I’d seen in circus acts, but with teacups sitting on top of each of the hats, and of course, he was horrible at it. The teacups kept falling off and shattering on the ground.

Finally, after way too long, the party was over, and the mad hatter and his rabbit companion unceremoniously told us to leave.

“Wait, don’t you have something clothing-wise to give me?”

The entire group stopped and turned toward me. “Linc, did you just ask me, The Mad Hatter, to give you a hat?”

The group tittered, but I shrugged. What else could I do? “Um, I guess.”

“Brave of you,”

the drunk mouse said.

“Yes, very brave,”

a giraffe-like creature I hadn’t met until we got to the tea party agreed.

“Why, why is it brave?” I asked.

Michell sighed. “I’m afraid my hats have a mind of their own. One never knows what might happen when one is applied to one’s head.”

I cocked an eyebrow, not just at how many times he’d said one, but also, not knowing what I was getting into.

“So, what, I’ll shrink or grow big again?”

“No, nothing so drastic. Here,”

Michell said, throwing a red top hat with pink lace ribbon around it into the air. It landed squarely on my head.

I felt tingling all over my body, like when the soothsayer drag queen put her hand over mine. Then, just like that, the tingling stopped, and I looked down.

The oversized mushroom sequined dress had shrunk and hugged my body. It was no longer the yellow sickish color, but had been replaced with a dramatically red one. There were still mushroom sequins, but they sparkled like diamonds. On the side of the tight-fitting dress was the perfect slit right up my right leg.

“My legs,”

I said when I looked down and saw all the hair had gone. I reached down and ran my hand up and down the appendage that was now smooth as a baby’s behind.

The stilettos had changed, too. Instead of being an awkward size that was hard to walk in, they were a brilliant cream that perfectly complemented the red dress.

“Is there a mirror, um, I mean a looking glass?”

I asked, determined to see the changes.

“Well, of course,”

Michell said, leading me to a mirror behind a great oak tree beside the house.

I gasped at my image. My beard had been trimmed but was still there. The hat sat perfectly on my head, and my natural curls bunched up beautifully around the rim. The ribbon had changed from pink to black and the red and black together exuded sex.

“How does a hat exude sex?”

I asked, causing everyone to laugh.

“You look lovely, darling,”

Mitchell said. “Now you are ready to visit the royal court.”

When he said that, the other creatures all sucked in a breath and rushed away into the brush around the home. “Um, what was that about?” I asked.

“Oh,”

Michell said, looking nonplused, “it’s nothing. Anyway, dear, you must be on your way. Keep going in the direction you came, and you’ll see the castle on the horizon. Chop, chop!”

He disappeared into his house before I could say anything.

“Well, okay,”

I said and headed down the path toward the castle as instructed.

I’d seen the castle in the distance and was about to walk toward it when a rumble echoed from one of the large trees that lined the path. In Alice in Wonderland, The Cheshire Cat showed up much earlier than in my dream. I looked up to see him smiling down at me. “Hello, Cheshire Cat, what is it you’ve brought me? A butt plug?”

I asked, knowing I was being a jerk. But seriously, what else could I wear?

The cat didn’t say anything, so I looked closer. I gasped when I saw he was my ex, Gregory. The moment I did, he disappeared, his smile never leaving his face, and just like in the story, his body vanished before his smile.

The rest of the walk to the castle was uneventful. When I got to the gates, I noticed the guards were all cards, just like in one of the movies they’d made of the story. Also, I recognized their faces as men I’d seen at the bar where Gregory performed.

The rest of the dream got a bit deep. My grandmother and grandfather had raised me deep in rural Tennessee. Grandma had been a Bible thumper, always quoting scripture and telling me how evil I was and how I was going to hell at every turn.

The second I laid eyes on the Queen, I knew she represented her.

My grandfather had been better at parenting than her. He was, as she’d called him, a layabout, good for nothing, but that wasn’t exactly true. He’d at least tried being a good surrogate father to me. His main flaw was he liked fishing more than anything. He’d ended up fishing his life away. In fact, when he had died of a heart attack, he’d fallen face-first into the Hatchie River.

When the King walked in, he winked at me, and I smiled as I recognized his ornery expression.

“Well, well, seems we have a visitor, Ma,”

he said, causing the Queen to throw a fit.

“I’m Your Majesty, not Ma! You worthless layabout!”

she screamed.

He shrugged and winked again. “So, young man, what brings you to the royal court?” he asked.

Before I could answer, Gregory, the Cheshire Cat, rubbed against my legs.

“Such impertinence,”

my grandmother, the Queen, screamed. “Off with his head!”

“Dear, can you decapitate a Cheshire cat? I mean, the head isn’t always attached as it is.”

“You can, and we shall. I’ll not have that degenerate in my home!”

she said, making me flinch. My grandmother had whipped my bottom twice in my life. Once when she’d caught me watching a YouTube video of RuPaul singing You bett’r Work.

“That man is a degenerate. I’ll not have that filth in my house,”

she’d screeched.

The second time, I was thirteenish and apparently checking out a cute guy I hadn’t seen before who came to a Wednesday night prayer meeting at my grandma’s church. The sad thing was, if she hadn’t come home wailing about me turning into a degenerate, I wouldn’t have recognized I was attracted to the guy.

After that, she just threw her hands up and said the Devil could have me, not that I knew what that meant. I still didn’t. Why would being myself be something the Devil would want?

Anyway, after that, I was put in prison. The cat didn’t lose his head, but it did appear one last time right before the soldier playing cards tossed me back into oblivion.

Cheshire Gregory’s smile never wavered as he disappeared for the last time.

I had no sooner woken before a song began to dance in my head. I could hear the wind blowing, tossing me to and fro. Words about being lost and finding nothing began to flow out of me.

“Well, guess I’ll get up,”

I said, not even looking at the clock or bothering to get dressed. I stumbled into my office, sat on the stool I used for my keyboard, and turned toward my desk.

“I’m falling to my death, and life is but a dream. I’m lost but not hopeless, shackled but free…”

Thus began the first line of the first scene in my musical.