Alice and Quinn ran through the dream forest, determined to outrun the newly usurped law enforcement. However, both of them smoke a pack a day if not more, so their lungs soon began to adamantly protest against such exertion. Luckily, the overthrown officer had eaten a few too many roasted kittens that day, and had stopped much sooner, due to indigestion. As they huffed and puffed their way into a clearing they halted and smiled at each other between gasps.

While they were attempting to resume normal breathing, and lighting cigarettes, they happened to noticed that just ahead of them was an ominous, oversized building. It looked horribly out of place among the swirling, colorful undulations of psychedelic dream flora that flourished around it. Above its cold iron door hung a sign: FATHER LUCIFER’S TREE MUSEUM, admission fee $1.50.

“A dollar and a half to see the trees,” said Alice, “What a travesty! That is a crime against humanity if I ever saw one.”

“Hmmm,” said Quinn, “It seems like we have stumbled upon an opportunity to begin our karma policing.”

“Yeah, whoever this Father Lucifer character is, he is obviously lame for putting trees in a museum. His karma probably sucks.”

“I don’t think we should go in as close to sobriety as we are after that little jog we just endured. Why not take a look in the Bag of Sunshine?”

“Yeah, I’m still tripping pretty hard, but I am definitely lacking a happy co-buzz at this point. I think we should mellow out before we go in there.  If we want to go around doling out cosmic justice we should probably avoid being assholes about it. Let’s see what we have in here….” Alice reached into the bag and pulled out a mysterious bouquet of red flowers.

“What are we supposed to do with these?” asked Quinn, “Decorate any random tombstones we happen to stumble across on our journey?”

“I think they’re poppies dear,” replied Alice, “Although I know for a fact that the opium has to be distilled from them, and we have absolutely no way of doing so in our present, drugged out circumstances.”

As they spoke a wind blew past, refreshing both of them and heightening their awareness of their surroundings. There was a sort of pop, and Alice’s hand was suddenly holding a ball of black tar where there was once a bouquet of poppies.