Comments on My No Legs Dream

You got new legs Lieutenant Dan!

At the robotics convention at the Seattle Center this past fall there were robotic limbs... intended for amputees ...

spooky!

Damn, candyqueen beat me to it!!

i love mudede's hyperbole. (i.e. "this is the most important passage ever written by any poet in the English language")

Now he's on about his dreams. Fuck, this is a new low for Charles.

stop! I had a dream last night that a doctor had to amputate and reattach one of my legs at the knee!

LH, you are either lying or making fun of me. which is it?

Curiously, the night before your dream, I watched the movie, Murderball, about a group of quadriplegic rugby players, one of whom did not have any legs at all. I believe that one of them was hit by a truck..., but I doubt he was looking at architecture. In one of the scenes from the movie, the legless man hides inside a box, where he plays a trick on a woman by surprising her.

I would like to continue the analysis of the dream as though it was my own. Now before checking out the movie at the Bellevue Regional Library, I suddenly came across a book in the aisles about Malevich, a suprematist artist recently mentioned by Charles on the Stranger Blog. I flipped through the book, impressed. But what most impressed me was that one of his artworks had made the cover of a novel I recently read by Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita. I decided to read on the page about how it was intened to portray the prison of reason, or something to that effect.

This takes me back to a comment I wrote on Mudede's post on Malevich, in which I essentially wrote that writing can have a possibly corrupting, derailing effect.

The interpretation of the dream, therefore, if had been mine, would indicate the guilt I may be feeling towards possibly corrupting people with my foul writing. Indeed, it was only yesterday that I deleted almost all my writing on the internet.

This is going to sound crazy, but nearly all of my dreams begin with my esteemed erstwhile colleague Charles showing students what is wrong with postmodern architecture.

neither lying OR fun making. I swear. I share a bed with a frequent reader of SLOG and if he cares to back me up, he can do so now. I woke up talking to him about the dream. The surgeon was cute and gave me good pain killers, so that kept this from being a nightmare. BUT IT'S TRUE!!!

That Coltrane metaphor is great. Man, he died too early...

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