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for all our Titanic dead (legged or fluked)
Dreamed 2015/8/4 by Wayan
Professor Ahab's elegant in French,
but saltier in Yank: "I long to spur
transcendence in these scurvy curs!"
Aye, in tests his pupils unimpress--
beached, yelping seal-pups. And yet
O the fieldtrips! Once his students leap
through the oval portal to that alien sea,
peagreen-opaque, where razor-edge
bergs rise, not cyan or white, but clear
conchoidal glass-shard crags--out here,
his pupils seem porpoises to ME--
spot ice through that impenetrable stew,
dive in, swarm to the sparkling crystal
voids in the soup, swift harpoon-wrestle
jagged manifolds of latency round until
these clear solid holes in blindness are
coaxed and rolled to rear their noblest hill,
the sweetest spire o'er sea they ever can:
best of all outcomes. At least for land
creatures not full whale. Ice-ikebana on a
(sorry) Titanic scale.
How do Ahab's flock pierce olive murk?
I can only spot clear ice-halls athrust
Well above waterline, letting me deduce
Gibraltar mass beneath the muddy jade.
I'm seablind, but a fair ice-wrangler. Too
tough for a "razor" edge to cut. Though ru-
mor exaggerates. Only a mighty rigid hull
driven by hubris, steam, sail or wave
onto an errant mountainfang need dread:
the molt sea licks dull the ice-blade.
Moby Dick does not use bergs to shave.
But O to have these pupils' skill
at piercing that opaque green veil!
Not sight but sonar. A secret whale
Pings under human-seeming skull.
The Transcendentalist Dour and I
watch on beach. He peglegs upon
a wooden bench. Head eight feet high,
he glowers at flock. I tease the broody hen:
"You strive to rack your pupils till
giraffed above their peers they see
far beyond school-test mediocrity.
But spare your Melville whip! A high
crow's-nest child sees a longer way,
but that lofty mast will magnify
the risk and seasick sway.
"They need no high eye. Sonar below!
Teacher in despair, you taught. Sea-echo,
not the harpoon sight you always sought.
Not whaler, but enwhaled. And what
"of Ahab's need? Remember the fall
of Sauron the Great. As the cold gold
let go in primal melt, old Gandalf felt
such joy--no longer had to nag them all;
they'd outgrown. Let the little folk alone--
heroes crucibled, they'll right their own
wrongs, Ringbearer-free. Ahabdicate!
You won't regret, you won't revoke
Mithrandir's Retirement Scheme!"
Ahab looked at me. I woke
wrangled out of my dream.
NOTES IN THE MORNING
- Why'd the dream mix Moby-Dick and The Lord of the Rings? Well... both epics critique hubris--we must use the Greek, since we've lost the Old English word, ofermod. Blind arrogance. The Ring blinds even its forger; Sauron can't imagine anyone rejecting it. Renounce power? Ahab's as blind--saw Moby-Dick as a mere symbol (Brute Nature, or the inscrutable God of Job?), and when Moby bit back in self-defense, Ahab was outraged, swore revenge... and dragged all his crew down with him. Just like Sauron, and Saruman his self-righteous disciple.
- Iceberg: Antiques Roadshow had a snapshot of the iceberg that sank the Titanic. Or rather the passive chunk of Greenland that a hubristic, lifeboat-lacking liner blindly rammed! Sank itself. But don't worry. Greenland's instability is a liberal myth, and society's hull is unsinkable now. Your future's crash-free.
- A swimmable sea of opacity hides solid unexplorable clear voids: a weird image reversing our land-lives' basic assumption of clear=empty, opaque=solid. Such a visually vivid Zen koan! I felt compelled to try and catch it, though I figured I'd clunkily fail--like Ahab's elusive whale.
- I lack sonar, so I tread water, peer out, spot a berg, and swim blind: I think the murky sea means daily life! Nightly, my dreamworld gives me bearings to follow (blind-reckoning) the next day! Ahab's students do better: flunk academic tests, but sense the bergs directly--they're intuitive in real life. I think the dream's warning me "Don't be smug over your dreamwork. Non-shamans navigate just fine by instinct!" So if YOU've been envying my wilder dreams, remember those very dreams say they're a clunky work-around guiding a fool who lacks sonar in daily life. Trust your echolocation system! The SAT (Standardized Ahab Testing) is deaf to your streak of whale.
- Manifolds of possibility wrestled round to the best orientation their shape allows: in the dream I knew that the castle above waterline would manifest as 'real' while the underhill stayed latent--what we mortals would see as mere potential. Not just a striking visual image--it's a model of choice in our lives! We can't manifest any old future we want (sorry, New Agers; icebergs exist) but it's not a fixed track either (sorry, fatalists: bergs can roll!) nor the all-possibilities-happen multiverse (sorry, physicists; bergs are stable at just a few angles). We can't melt or totally avoid all bergs in our path, but we CAN learn to steer, by ping or peer, and wrestle 'em round from Titanic catastrophe to the best angle--put their best face to the sun.
Tip-tug the monster block!
Hard brontosaurus waltz.
I do it, full of faults:
Lack that sonar knack.
But dive in, wriggle, seek!
Do your best to wrangle.
For even awkward angle
Beats Titanic wreck.
LISTS AND LINKS:
There Are Doors -
other worlds -
on the beach -
undersea dreams -
uncollapsed probability-sheaves -
initiative vs. passivity -
whales - sixth senses felt in dreams:
living with ESP -
Ahab and Moby Dick -
transcendent dreams - dream
digital art -
Morgan Robertson's eerily predictive
J.C. Middleton's lifesaving
Titanic Nightmare -
Graham Greene's apparently clairvoyant
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