The Ridiculus Mus

Do you know what happens when you read too much Kant and Nietzsche?

You have wierd dreams.

I mean, really wierd dreams.

Last night, after staying up late to finish the paper, I dreamt that I was in a tropical hotel and had somehow ingested a hallucinogen - that I was seeing inside people's skins. I could see the muscles and skull-bones beneath their faces, and other strange things. But only faces seemed to be affected: shifting, runny, tribal masks of skulls where faces should be. What I find odd is that somehow my mind decided to interpret that I was hallucinating, rather than just incorporating the bizarreness into the concept of "dreaming."

Then the dream shifted to my leaving the tropical hotel, and once I got outside there was a line of men dressed in long black kaftans, some of them handcuffed into a line or riding bicycles. They first looked like some sort of priests, but then I realized they were vampires wearing turbans - and they were becoming cross with me for getting in the way of their handcuffed bicycle caravan. One, in the distance, got so angry his face turned from chalky white to blood red. I knew I was in trouble then, and I woke up.

It was like Kipling meets Gaiman meets Edward Gorey meets Hunter S. Thompson...aaagh. I can't - won't - even begin to analyze that one.

If you're curious about the Kant and Nietzsche paper (or bored, or just plain masochistic) you can download the PDF version here. But don't say I didn't warn you.

"Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus" ("The mountains are in labour; a ridiculous mouse will be born") - Horace, Epistles, Book II, 3, Ars Poetica

{squeak}

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