Philosophical Anarchism

the Man Who Was Thursday: 
A Nightmare

by G.K. Chesterton (1908)

''No man should leave in the universe 

anything of which he is afraid."

                                                                  - Gabriel Syme

I was waiting for a train,

(NJ Transit from Penn Station to Linden, NJ)

when I first opened up this under-appreciated, 

mostly-forgotten, British thriller.

It's a story that moves very fast, often in directions you don't expect. 

Bouncing quickly between various genres, 

the piece, at times, could be considered 

a mystery novel, a detective story, a satire,

a Christian metaphor, a horror story & great adventure tale.

"The rare, strange thing is to hit the mark; the gross, obvious thing is to miss it."

                                                                  - Gabriel Syme

I don't want to spoil the story for you,

the secrets & plot-twists are important to the experience, 

but for the sake of explanation, the novel starts off as 

our protagonist, Gabriel Syme, is engaged in a heated debate

with the town's local anarchist poet, Lucian Gregory,

over what the "purpose of poetry" is.

For the sake of proving to Syme that he is indeed 

an anarchist, Lucian takes Gabriel to the secret headquarters

of the local anarchists.

This is where the story shifts gears, 

so I won't go any further for now.

Chesterton paints a very surreal picture of 

turn-of-the-century London, with equal portions

of quaintness & grime, secret tunnels & vast golden fields,

all the while, carrying with it a dark sense of humor,

married with impending sense of dread which

seems to lurk just around every new corner.

Chesterton's novel is not an easy read.

This is not the kind of book to read on a lazy day at

the beach. It has a very 'British/European'-style voice that

does take a few minutes to get adjusted to, but once you've

become accustomed to the dialogue of the author, 

the second half starts to fly-by.

Personally, I love this book & I hope you will, too. 

“The philosopher may sometimes love the infinite. The poet always loves the finite. For him, the great moment is not the creation of light, but the creation of the sun and moon.”

                                                                 - Narrator

A Nightmare on Waverly Ave.

I was staring across the table at her 

and she looked absolutely beautiful.

We were in a tiny, little rustic French restaurant 

& the waiter was just bringing my steak out to the table

when I decided I needed to tell her how i feel.

I poured my heart out.

I told her I would do anything for another chance.

I told her I had changed and that I was older;

Ready to start the rest of my life with her.

Ready to commit to her for the long run...

I reached into my pocket, 

but whatever I was looking for had disappeared.

Frantically, I searched around the table.

She took her purse off the back of her chair

and placed it on the table. 

Wordlessly, she reached into her bag, 

pulled out a small snub-nosed revolver

& casually shot me in the chest. 

I didn't feel the bullet hit me,

but I watched the world tumble as 

I fell straight back out my chair onto the floor.

the chamber music stopped abruptly.
patrons watched from their seats horrified,
before turning back to their meals & drinks.


the chamber music started again. 

I scanned my surroundings before 
casting my gaze upon a large man

sitting on a tiny barstool against the wall.

It was my my cousin, Dean.

He had a snifter of Anisette in his hand 

& the charred end of a cigar clenched in his teeth.

He looked down at me silently, as I laid there gasping for air,

bleeding out onto the luxurious plush carpet, 

Dean took the cigar from his mouth, cleared his throat, 
and said...

"Legend has it, his shadow once killed a dog"

And then i woke up; late-for-class.

that's how I started my morning. 

Maybe it's everyone.

Or maybe my brain is just wired incorrectly

(Or maybe I shouldn't fall asleep watching the Sopranos)

but the effects of my nightmares
tend to linger throughout the day.


My nightmares bothers me far more than my Insomnia, 
although I honestly believe it's all inter-connected.
And while my insomnia is well-documented throughout this blog,
It tends to be more of an annoyance/product of my environment
than anything else; coming & going on a quasi-cyclic pattern.
My nightmares are not remotely that predictable...


I don't regularly remember my dreams once I wake up,
So, over the years I've come to believe that 
when I DO have an intense, highly-specific dream like this, 
it must have a deeper meaning than just 
my over-active imagination running wild.


Up until I received my Associates Degree from MVCC,
I had an awful recurring nightmare.
I woud wake up deep underwater,
Floating, but not swimming. 
Just treading water, no matter how hard i paddled.
When i'd look up, I see the moonlight above the water
followed every time by a large, slow-moving
shape that floated/swam across my line of vision
and blocked out the light, leaving me in the dark.


I hated that dream & i'm glad i don't have it anymore.

...seeing double.