As other examples of pairing dialogue to characters, the play featuring Dead Dreams has them say: "Let us in.  We freeze.  Why have you barred us out?  Our wings are torn, and our long hair drops constantly with rain."  Such a statement could encourage the querent to recall an aspiration that was somehow forgotten or otherwise abandoned along the way.  The character Hope offers a very positive promise: "Fear not.  Be comforted.  Peace keep thy soul.  Despair and Grief can touch thee never more."  The character Love has this heartening message: "Have courage.  Death is swallowed up in me."  The character Evil counsels to burn away that which offends you: "Let fire have its way.  Strew it around. … Let it rage and roar.  Sow its red seeds about, and let them spring and blossom crimson to the crimson moon."

Consider this sample card featuring The Night Moth, from the St. Nicholas Book of Plays and Operettas, 1905.  The moth fairy says that all through the summer she curled within the petals of a lily, and when the lily finally withered, she slipped away like dew.  This could serve as a reminder to take advantage of and enjoy resources while they last, then move on when an inevitable cycle comes to fruition.

Rather than ask a particular question, the preferred way to use this sort of divination system is to first think of a short title for the personal drama in which you find yourself.  There’s no incorrect way to do this — simply attempt to encompass your situation in two to four words.  “What Happens in Vegas” might be an appropriate title for concerns about an upcoming vacation to Nevada.  “A Question of Romance” might serve if you are worried about a love interest.  “The Agreement” might be a title involving a commitment or a contract.  “All Through the House" might denominate a domestic issue.  “Hurry Up and Wait” might address a particular limbo.  “What Goes Around” might be an appropriate title for a reading intended to identify what’s about to come around.  “Cat and Mouse” might be appropriate for thwarting an opponent.  “The Promotion” might name a work-related issue.  For a more general reading, try a broader title like “That’s Life” or “The Way of the World.”  Once you have settled on a title, draw cards to initiate your character set and script.  Every reading becomes a unique script to shed light upon one’s particular situation.  That’s because “Theatre reveals what is behind so-called reality” (The Cambridge Introduction to Theatre Directing, 2013) and also because a text “exists only as an event that reveals the reader’s self” (James Machor and Philip Goldstein, “Theoretical Accounts of Reception,” in Reception Study, 2001).

A spread of cards with snippets of conversation forms its own miniature script.  How could a collaged dialogue make sense?  “A text can make sense and someone can make sense of a text.  If a text which at first did not make sense comes to make sense, it is because someone has made sense of it” (Jonathan Culler, The Pursuit of Signs, 1981).  “We make sense of a text by relating it to the context of our knowledge, emotions, and experience.  But since such contexts will be different for particular readers, so interpretations will vary also” (Peter Verdonk, Stylistics, 2002).  Deconstructionism “holds that a reader is free to find meaning in a text that the writer did not intend and — in making the interpreter a partner in the creation of copy — seeks to replace the stability of logic with the fluidity of paradox” (William Saffire, No Uncertain Terms, 2004).

The composition of the cast of characters may offer important insights into the nature of your reading.  For example, is there a “cold” tone to the scene with figures like Jack Frost, Santa, or a tin soldier?  Are several grandparents and other elders present, indicating wisdom or authority?  Is there a preponderance of mothers and nursemaids to suggest nurturance?  Have mysterious or frightful spirits and ghosts made themselves known?  Do children predominate, suggesting naivety or new beginnings?  Are several Irishmen present, traditionally associated with luck?  Musicians may appear, suggesting the importance of timing and harmony.  Clowns might also congregate, to lighten the tone.  Characters might hold walking sticks or crutches, indicating sources of support.  If any carry umbrellas, they're prepared for inclemency.  Look also at the directions characters face.  Are most or all facing left, or right, or forward?  Such alignments may be meaningful to your situation.

Old books of theatrical entertainments for children (like Let's Pretend: A Book of Children's Plays by Lindsey Barbee, 1917) are treasure troves of quintessential personae who spring from our deepest wells of folk wisdom.  They are preserved in a liminal space, a threshold of time.  Over long centuries they have continued to surface in retellings and re-imaginings of humanity's profoundest narratives.  There is no one "right" or "wrong" combination of such figures.  We conjure characters from old plays as portentous ghosts of holy days past, in the grand tradition of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.  This system brings to life forgotten characters from plays that may no longer be performed on stage, and their scripts are newly invigorated via a process of natural selection as we combine disparate dialogues into literally cutting-edge creations.  Though we call these characters ghosts, they are more accurately archetypes, which are “neither entirely natural nor super-natural” (Derek Steinberg, Consciousness Reconnected, 2006).  Simply put, “An archetype is an awareness of what is yet unknown” (Cynthia Ashperger, The Rhythm of Space and the Sound of Time, 2008).

To see us out, here's a character from The White Christmas and Other Merry Christmas Plays.  He says, "For I'm the Wishing Man.  I have wishbones on my fingers, I have myst'ry in my eyes, my clothes are trimmed with horseshoes, and they're stained with magic dyes.  My pocket's full of rabbits' feet, and clover leaves and charms; for luck I've got a big black cat all tattooed on my arms."  Good luck!