Linden in Lincoln: Linden enters bizarre dream world
By Mark Nemeth
Staff Reporter
Linden walked without a direc
tion through the rain, and time
went by. By the time Linden was
aware of his direction, his socks
were soaked. By the time Linden
was aware of time passing, he was
off campus, atop a railroad track.
Linden walked on a railroad track
and saw wet pictures of naked
women strewn along the tracks
and wondered what they had meant
to their owner.
Linden was walking through an
undeveloped rail yard below Air
port Highway, and between Uni
versity Stadium and The Market of
Hay Place of Postage.
The Market of Hay Place of Post
age, or The Postage Place, as area
residents called it, was a booming
business — a commercial link be
tween the late night mailer and the
United States Postal Service. For a
minor fee, the Place of Postage
provides a beautiful array of pre
written friendly form letters, such
as “1 didn’t know he was your
brother ...," "Your mother is driv
ing me crazy . . “Send more
information . . .,” to “Let’s Still Be
Friends . . and “When I said
tomorrow, I meant next week ...”
Itie bright lights outside the Place
of Postage lit docks and trucks that
people worked upon.
Linden walked into the Place of
Postage and bought a card for Jill.
It read: “Even though you and I
don’t agree on George Batailles, I
miss the nights we didn’t fight. I
miss it when I stayed inside. Mostly
because you’re cooler now, I wish
we could have made it right. Hello
to you, I thought I’d write. I hope
without me, your life is trite.”
Linden signed his name and de
posited it into a machine, selected
NO BORDER from the computer
menu, then FIRST CLASS, then LOVE
STAMP, and then deposited 95 cents.
Forty-five minutes later Linden
was removing his clothes. Five
minutes later Linden wasdryinghis
body. Linden then brushed his teeth.
Linden lay. His mind was clear
ing as he could see that he was at
the end of a passage. He had been
stoned and now he was tired. A
series of colorful and changing
emotions had washed through nim.
Linden fell asleep.
The floor of Linden’s room was
full of scattered clothes and un
opened school books and syllabi.
However, Linden saw a large con
sole with screens, meters, levers
and buttons, because Linden was
asleep and dreaming about a large
console with screens, meters, lev
ers and buttons.
Images of places and people
were appearing at intervals on one
of the screens, while on another
appeared text. The meter levels
would change along with the chang
ing of screen images.
Jill Coptic’s picture appeared on
the screen. “Jill Coptic,” read the
text on the other screen. “1121 D,
rock star in the eyes of some of the
locals ...”
On another screen appeared a
picture of a unicorn repeatedly
ramming its head into a bail of hay.
“Anyone you want up on the
screen Linden, we can get them —
as long as they’re within the city
limits. Just think about them, and
they’re there,” said a voice to Lin
den’s right.
Linden turned to see Cute Peter
playing with a volume control and
smiling.
The image on the screen was
again Jill Coptic’s. Linden tried to
change the image, but couldn’t.
“I’m thinking about Sylvia Ju
lius, but nothing is changing.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Linden,” Cute
Peter said. “I’m wearing the head
set. Here.”
Cute Peter handed the headset
to Linden.
Linden was falling through a
lake, to the bottom where sacks of
thrift store clothes sat. Linden
changed into a yellow miniskirt
and swam to the top, but ducks on
the surface swam down to peck at
Linden, keeping him underwater.
Linden swam further underwater
and into a multi-leveled restaurant
made from big sheets of sand paper.
“I can’t breathe,” he thought
calmly to himself.
Linden was in a desert. It was a
stage. Its wallswerc the confines of
the universe. A big silver ball about
a meter across came floating atop
the stage, then two priests fell from
the walls, and the ball flew on.
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Continued from Page 8
think I could interview you?”
“Ha ha ha, that’s the stupidest
thing I’ve ever heard of. Don’t you
know that it’s due in 10 minutes?
You’ll never finishit now. Ha ha ha
ha ha ha!"
zzzzzzzz
Economics 211 Final Exam.
1) What is the marginal propen
sity of economic paralysis extrapo
j lating from leading indicators on a
' Socratic curve. Assume the number
of Yes albums to be held variable.
A) 90125 B) George Bush
C) King Lear D) King Lear
“Oh my god, all the questions
are the same. I’m going to fail.”
zzzzzzzz
“Hi, Carter."
“Hi, Jackson.”
"Oh, Carter, those Buzzcocks
records you loaned me, the ones
that you got autographed at the
concert, I accidentally taped a
George Bush concert over them.
Sorry!"
“They’re records, how the hell
did you tape over them?”
“This is a dream, Carter, 1 can do
things like that. Weird things, like
changing into your mother without
your realizing it. I need you to get
me some groceries tonight, I have
n’t eaten in three weeksbecause of
you."
“OK mom.”
zzzzzzzzz
“Mr. Van Pelt, what are you
doing at a road bike race with a
tricycle that has square wheels and
flat tires. And why are you so much
smaller than everyone else? You’re
going to finish dead last in this
race. Dead last! Ha ha ha! Four
Thanksgiving breaks since you
started college and you’ve never
studied during one of them! And
you never finished reading Plato
for Professor Hugly! What would
he think of you!"
zzzzzzzzz
“Carter, Carter, wake up, it’svime
for school."
“Mom, I chink I'm sick today."
“You’ve got to go to school,
Carter, you’re never going to get
into college if you keep up this
attendance problem. You’ve got
two days before you graduate, you
haven’t written for the Daily Ne
braskan in weeks, and you haven’t
gone to class since 10th grade. 1
guess you’ll stay in high school
forever.. . and ever. .. and ever.
. . and ever. . . and ever. .
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BEEP BEEP
8:2-1 a.m. Time to get up. I guess
I’ll just blow Bryan off again this
week. I’m not going to be able to
think of anything to say about sleep,
except that I wish I could have a
little more; it’s so nice to escape
from all the stress in my life for a
few hours.
Van Pell is a junior broadcasting
major and a Daily Nebraskan A&E staff
reporter.
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