TOO MUCH TO BEAR
Pencil, acrylic washes, 18 x 24", 2000, by Chris Wayan
I dreamed that big rich white newcomers invaded San Francisco, evicting us locals right and left. Really big, really rich, and really REALLY white: half-ton, nouveau-riche polar bears. As the Arctic warmed up they had to adapt; and they turned out to have a flair for cutthroat capitalism.
Our mayor's an adaptable guy: he redecorates City Hall, stocks the fountain with baby seals for snacks...
One of the eeriest aspects of the dream is that after the bears fell, and the cops came and stretched yellow caution tape all around the bodies, I talked to a detective I knew about the case. He said that from the damage, they estimated the impact at 72 miles per hour. I was startled it was so precise, but he explained that due to the cube-square law, heavy animals like bears are much more vulnerable to low-speed impacts that we might survive. Anyway, from the velocity, they could calculate the height of the balcony the victim was thrown from... and maybe, just maybe, track down the killer.
So don't tell me dreams can't add.
Fans of Philip Pullman's novel THE GOLDEN COMPASS will readily recognize the echoes, in my dream, of the shattering bear-duel in the ice-castle on Svalbard...
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