Last night I dreamt about
noding again.
Your screen waves and dissolves as you read this...
I had lots of good dreaming last night, although most of it is vanished, I know I did, because I remember remembering it when I first awoke... or was awaking... or was possibly still asleep. Perhaps I dreamt dreaming all these good dreams, or dreamt remembering them...
One of the lost ones was about noding. I was going to answer jderrida's reasonable argument about logic being interpreted as Aristotelian logic, when there are other kinds, no less "logical" in their own way, such as Freudian logic. My counterargument to this was to be (still will be if there really is such a write-up by that noder (ooh, there it is under logical)) that while it's true that there is a different logic to dreams and impulses of the unconscious, which may be deserving of a special extention of the term "logical", we nevertheless routinely characterize their peculiar character as illogical: it is their very illogicality, in the familiar sense, that makes them striking.
This went on to several related topics, where I did fairly good short nodes; the only one I can recall now is, I think, heta-logical, relating to a kind of women's discourse reinterpeting the interrelating concepts of logic and sexuality. The prefix heta was a deliberate amalgam of the metaphysical meta- and the sexually normative hetero-. (In retrospect it sounds quite useful, if I could work out how.)
Who's telling this dream, you or me? Yes I do bloody dream this stuff. I can't help it if my mind works that way.
Third dream, latter part. A scene as if from an adventure game: a young man, a Japanese man, very young and slightly airbrushed into near-Europeanness in the way these characters are. He could use the power of his mind to deflect his enemies. They were three; one I forget, but I think it was a huge Transformer-like machine creature; as the second was, a giant lorry or more the size of an open-cut mining machine but with aluminium drawers that sprang out all over it. This lumbered up to him and he tried deflecting it with his mental effort. The drawers sprang out and hurt him, and he recoiled.
Next came another strapping young Japanese man, holding two huge girders attached to his arms. The hero strained mentally and got biffed senseless by the girders. The villain now picked him up from the ground and showed her around the platform where they were: it was actually the roof of a factory.
He showed her around, looking down at the beauties to front and back. It was actually the normal rolls of barbed wire across the front wall of a factory, with the front and back yards full of scrap and weeds, but simultaneously it was a jewelled vision of natural beauty, thick and appealing like a Pre-Raphaelite painting.
I lay awake trying to fix this third part in my mind, trying to recall the earlier dreams, too tired to get up and switch the computer on or even get out a notebook to record them. I only had about ten minutes before I had to get up. I dozed, and dreamt the third one again.