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."