THAT DAY

A vacancy was coming up in our shared house, and we had three people to interview. I was getting over a mild flu virus, and couldn't stand up too long. My housemates were nearly well, having had it ahead of me. We went ahead and met:

• Brad, an architecture student. He sounds very idealistic. A bit rigid, though?
• Eric, who's a Martin Buber freak--he talks of nothing else! Man, only at Stanford...
• Kathleen, a calm cheerful birdlike photographer, who sits on the floor with us convalescents. Feels like a sleep-over with all of us flopping dreamily on the rug...

THAT NIGHT

I'm at film-award ceremony that's a piano competition, too; the stage is full of white guys in tuxedos. We the audience lie around on the floor, under fuzzy blue blankets that soak up the sound, so we can't hear very well. So we lie on each other and kiss instead. Some get naked and have sex under cover.

I raise my head up a bit above the muffling blue sea, and suddenly I can hear clearly! But I feel guilty that by projecting up above the low audience level, I'm blocking the film-projection for them. So I lie back down.

"Wow," I think, "There's the whole theme of THE COMPETITION: should I stand out and gain at others' expense? Not me! Too guilty."

Oh well, you don't need words anyway, to understand the story on the screen. It's a tale of giants and Lilliputians; one giant is so big he can't fit on the screen, or even in their reality. Though he may be quite ordinary--I think it's just a trick of perspective.

Then the film characters start to materialize among the audience. I'm pelted with midgets. It gets pretty crowded. I hunt for my coat and clothes under the crush. Oops, a couple is fucking on them. I feel strange, and realize I'm dragging myself around by my arms. Not even up on my knees. Oh. No wonder. My knees are missing! And... my feet, thighs... most of my pelvis! Now where did I leave them?

Crawl around a giant's foot, searching, and spot my friend Beryl. She looks odd too. Oh! She ended up with my legs and ass! They fused on behind her, and now she's a quadruped conglomeration like a small, short-bodied, tailless centaur.

She stands up naked. Everyone can see! I start blushing. I mean everyone's staring at MY bare ass! Bent over in quadrupedicity, it really sticks out. Another projection...

Oh, well, at least it's not ON me. They won't know it's mine.

I wriggle up to Beryl like a circus seal, and hiss "Beryl, those are MY legs."

She says "But Chris... I feel much more stable like this. I kind of like being a centaur--I was always shaky on just two legs. And I have these big stupid breasts, so I need some extra ass to balance 'em." It's true, her oversize breasts project nearly as far in front of her as her new ass does behind her...

"But Beryl, it's not yours! How am I supposed to get around?" She makes sympathetic delaying noises, as she turns round and round like a kitten after its own tail, admiring her new, extra legs. Mine are longer than hers, so my ass REALLY sticks up...

"C'mon, I'm just borrowing them. You didn't object."

I feel the lava rising inside, pushing against the plug of politeness. And pop. Eruption! I take a huge breath, and scream with all my being, "BERYL GARP, YOU GIVE ME BACK MY ASS!"

POP! My legs are back! They feel all right... I stand up shakily, checking the connections, suspicious. The last time Beryl borrowed my car the brakes came back blown...

Yes, I can walk just fine. They're okay.

I feel relieved. At first. Then I think "Aw, shit... now I have to go back to work!"

As a no-ass cripple, lying around... I was free.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• Crippled and free = I've spent much of my adult life with chronic illness. And I have to confess: in a workaholic society like America, mild illness has its benefits. You may be poor, but at least you get some free time!
• Big breasts and tiny feet--Beryl is like this. Wobbles like a spinning top. She could use some extra feet. Just not mine!
• Borrowing = Beryl never really trashed my car, but her boyfriend returned it without brakes once, and I swore never to lend it to him again. He promptly talked me into it one last time--and blew a rod.
• Competition = I do feel guilty in situations where my gain is someone else's loss. This dream warns me I better quit being so damn considerate... when it's my own ass.

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