Dreamers

"There are too few dreamers left," the owl stated matter-of-factly. "The fabric of the dreamtime is weakening." "I do not agree," the raven answered respectfully. "It is not the quantity but the quality of dreamers we have left that is putting the dreamworld in decline." "Sorry ... to speak out of turn ... well, not that I get a turn," the pigeon started and they stared at it, annoyed. "It's ... okay ... it's melatonin." "What?" pressed the owl, its eyes focused to an alarming degree. "They work too much and can't sleep, so they take melatonin; no dreams tend to come with that stuff," the pigeon explained. The raven sighed, pulling the owl back for a quick private convo. "Any suggestions?" the raven eventually asked the pigeon, clearly vexed he had none of his own. "Well, you ... uh ... you can't take that stuff if you have a head injury," the pigeon began. "What say we start dropping walnuts and things on them while they're out? From a tall tree, that's like being hit with a baseball." The crows ruffled themselves excitedly; they were thrilled with the plan. "Whatever it takes," the owl said quietly with a shrug.