Story: The Ridiculous Knight (Part 2)

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So the knight in Spenser's Arthurian poem, saddled and caparisoned to such a point that his will disappeared beneath allegorical paint -- how did he manage to move at all? Every inch of ground became so meaningful and symbol laden that the horse's hoof sank in and could not could not move. Dave in his nightmare rode the horse (though he didn't know how to ride a horse) while beautiful Elise (in reality strong minded, definitely stronger than he) fell out of her natural role and stood at the edge of the clearing wringing her hands. Find Don and bring him back to reality, she implored him in the "voice without refusal" that Dave at least would not know how to refuse.

But was this reality? Dave looked down at the valiant Arthurian knight that he was pretending to be. His body, his real body, was covered with tattoos and arty obscenities from his former life. He was no knight, he was not in any shape to rescue anyone. All his own color was ashen.

He woke up slowly, cautiously, and dressed (it was like putting the eggshell back onto the egg). Then he set out to find this guy, this Don whom Elise valued so much.

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St Diodochos of Photiki distinguished evil dreams from innocent ones by pointing out that the demons were by nature restless, squirming in their misery, unable to hold still, and the dreams that they sent were the same. A reality forever in flux was like the doubled tongue in the Book of James. You needed to gallop through this particular land without letting it touch you and convince you. Likewise the first temptation of our leader in the wilderness was the work of the master of flux: "tell these stones to become bread".

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Whereas the person of faith -- whether artist or Arthurian knight -- sought nothing so much as to live in a vision that was sustained. But this aspiration was not simply granted, it had to be achieved.

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But what held steady was not the symbols, only what they pointed to. Dave stopped and rested his steed, wiped his sweaty forehead as best he could. In the baddest part of town the gas statons were all shuttered up and the anchoress's soup kitchen was practically the only legitimate business. Prostitutes from the casinos floated by the pumps waiting for their dealers. They were very sad and very hard, no, the hardness only masked the sadness but made it impossible of access because time was running out. They needed medication to get through the day. Their medicines came from the south. The wino with the bag of wine, sitting on the bench, he too was in desperate search for medication. All of them, they looked at Dave and recognized one of their own, just in the way he was flinching.

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I cannot go through with this, he said to himself.

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