I dreamed of a planet with two moons. The lower moon slowly waned
away. Then I dreamed I had corrective surgery to remove my comma
half. I was a period! I indicated the full pause with which
the utterance of a sentence closes. Mine was a pregnant silence.
I woke up feeling uneasy, however, sensing that the period is mightier than the semicolon.
When I fell back asleep, I had a nightmare. I was being chased by
a character called "the Flotz," who gobbles up punctuation. In
fact, it was eerily like in the poem "The Flotz" by Jack Prelutsky: "I
chomp on commas half the day, / quotation marks are rarer prey, / a
semicolon's quite a treat, / while polka dots are joys to eat."