No, it is impossible. You cannot dream for five minutes. You must go down into the valley of rapid eye, of legs thick with paralysis. You must go down, so far down, to come back. We woke you from safety. You couldn’t stay there. We had to wake you and wake you. You couldn’t. You cannot. You cannot stay. Say goodbye to the field of berries, the day you picked them with your sister. Say goodbye to the city you flew over, floating with a boy you loved in high school. Floating a blue cloud. A place by a shining river. Say goodbye to the Dream Animal, with its sweetly human face, its body furred with white. How it rocks you in a thick pelt of lap while you sing your tired song. But say goodbye. Goodbye! Goodbye! You cannot stay there. We need you, in a small room, beneath a clear, white light, to tell us. We need you to tell us.