ODing on Joyce
The dangers of over-involvement with one's dissertation texts:
First, I dreamed I was Eileen Clery ('E.C' from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man). I was in love with Stephen Dedalus and followed him up and down Clanbrassil Street, carrying my carpet bag. The dress I wore was a little too '30s for the time period, but dreams are not really about accuracy--or, at least, not that kind of accuracy.
Then, next I must have been Lucia Joyce, because Joyce, in a vest, was my Papa. He hugged me with relish, in a restaurant washroom with mirrors. But he was distant, even as he was fond.
Then, my friend Shelley showed me the groovy stickers she'd designed for each episode of Ulysses. She wrote me a check for $50 because I'd actually read the book.
As I slept fitfully and dreamed each of these sequences, it was as if I were helping to write or construct Ulysses in my sleep. A lot of the phrases kept recurring; I kept waking up; and I felt, in the morning, as if I had worked very hard all night long.
First, I dreamed I was Eileen Clery ('E.C' from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man). I was in love with Stephen Dedalus and followed him up and down Clanbrassil Street, carrying my carpet bag. The dress I wore was a little too '30s for the time period, but dreams are not really about accuracy--or, at least, not that kind of accuracy.
Then, next I must have been Lucia Joyce, because Joyce, in a vest, was my Papa. He hugged me with relish, in a restaurant washroom with mirrors. But he was distant, even as he was fond.
Then, my friend Shelley showed me the groovy stickers she'd designed for each episode of Ulysses. She wrote me a check for $50 because I'd actually read the book.
As I slept fitfully and dreamed each of these sequences, it was as if I were helping to write or construct Ulysses in my sleep. A lot of the phrases kept recurring; I kept waking up; and I felt, in the morning, as if I had worked very hard all night long.
posted by Jennie-Rebecca at 12:21 PM
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