Like the famous scene of Lewis Carrol’s Alice in Wonderland, the proportions of our world have suddenly transformed. Matters that just a short time ago seemed so great—insurmountable obstacles, grand aspirations, or celebrated achievements—have shrunk into so many granules of sand disappeared into a tile floor. No less those insignificant things we hardly noticed– the mental well-being of grocery clerks, the opportunity to shake a hand, a smile—have ballooned into lurching giants, too vast to grasp or control. It all feels beyond our control, so we panic. Tiny, gasping, we hop and stretch our fingertips toward the table above: “DRINK ME” says the great bottle. “DRINK ME”, read the label now out of reach. We drank. And we discovered what cannot be undone. But the important question (that is, the interesting question) is would we go back if we could? Indeed, for those who care to look, there is a door. Its entrance is small and obscured by overgrowth, but the handle works. The passage inside is dark and no one knows what lies beyond. But anyone who has read a faerie tale knows that beyond the dark passage there lies another world. Fit for us now, just as we are.