I will tell you the story of P.S. Moon:
The Peek-Sneak Moon is a rarely heard of moon phase. It is the time when the moon is just about ready to hibernate for its day or two of darkened rest. She's tired of course, for her eye has been open for days on end. Slowly, slowly, slowly it has been drawing to a close, watching you the whole while, afraid to let you out of her sight. You're so lovely to her and fascinating in your flighty fits of fancy. In a way, she's jealous. Incredible, isn't it? The great body in the heavens is jealous of an ant in the scheme of the sky bodies. But there is an explanation...
She can't dream. You can.
She longs to close her eyes to the world the way you do. That's why she studies you and is so hesitant to close her steady sight. Your dreams are on her mind day and night, lovely or sad. She wants them for herself. So, as her heavy hooded lid hangs lower and lower over her creamy eye she grows more and more hopeful to catch a dream or two during her dark nights. The narrowing sliver becomes keen to peek, desperate to sneak, the slightest of your gift. It is this time that you may feel her frantic tug at your own eyes, for it's her last chance to secure a dream inside her memory - to slumber and wake with it fresh. It's now when you lock eyes. You hear her pleading question, a tiny slipped letter from one body to the other, clearly written, clearly signed: