Tales of Dick ... And Jane
Questions To Ask Before Reading about Dick and Jane
1. Is the below about a particular Dick, or a universal Dick?
2. Is Dick really Dick, or is he a mere symbol of Dick?
3. What might Dick be a symbol of?
4. Were you disturbed or surprised by Dick's limited vocabulary?
5. What is the cultural context in which Dick first appeared?
6. Is the sun always shining in Dick's world? Is Spot always running?
7. Who comes first, Dick or Jane?
8. Is this a sign of gender identity?
9. How would Dick be different if this book were written today?
10. Has our relationship to Dick changed?
11. Is Dick's world the real world?
12. Or is it just a fantasy? Would you prefer a fantasy Dick?
All About Jane
Suppose you are Dick, or any man, smitten with a certain woman. Let's call her Jane. Lovely Jane. You think maybe Jane notices you. Or maybe she doesn't. In any case, you want her to. In fact, you don't just want her to. You need her to. Because if Jane pays attention to you, everything will change: the color of the sky, the amount of rainfall or bumblebees in spring . . . Even the stock market and the crime rate will be affected, and the number of digits in pi and souls who make it into heaven.
The problem is, Jane doesn't know you exist. Maybe you've never even said hello to Jane. Maybe she's already taken, already in love with someone else. Poor Dick. You don't have a chance. Nevertheless you can't get her out of your head. So what is a Dick to do? Pine? Worry? Jump off a bridge? Send flowers, wine, chocolate, seven pairs of silk underpants, each embroidered with your phone number?
But what do you want from Jane? A smile, a note, an evening on the town. One night of bliss?
No. Of course not. You want everything, nothing less. Nothing she gives will ever be enough. There is no such thing as enough.
Alas, woe is you. Whatever your question, Jane's answer is no. You know this before you ever ask.
Sometimes you lie awake and talk to the darkness. Hello, Jane. This is the night talking.
Other times you beg your mind not to think about Jane, and not to think about not thinking about Jane.
One day you visit a therapist who asks: What are you afraid of, Dick? What is the worst thing that could happen?
Your answer: to live in a world without Jane.
A Tale of Dick and Jane
One night Jane dreams she is making love to a man . . . oh yes, and making love, again and again, as Jane has never made love before. When she wakes, her skin ablaze, her temperature soaring so high, she dials 911. She is carried away by ambulance, her body wrapped in ice. Only when Jane is chilled to the bone can she see who the star of her dreams is. Dick! Only Dick!! Who else? Now she cannot sleep at night, nor can she eat. She cannot go out, not even to walk with Spot, her pooch, nor can she stay in. Wherever she is and wherever or isn't, she fears. Dick is there waiting. Dick is calling her name, waving in her direction. Sometimes he dials her number and hangs up before she can answer. She wants to pick up the phone, scream: Listen Dick, don't call me ever again. Understand? But it's too late. Alas. It is always too late. Woe is Jane! For this is no ordinary Dick. This is the dream of Dicks, and the dream of the dream of Dicks. And there is no Dick like him. Jane cannot stop wanting him even if she tries. Oh Dick, Dick, Jane sighs. My own Dick! Now she aches all over. Just thinking of Dick gives her a physical sensation that hurts when she walks, like a pricker in her sock. Deep inside her sock inside her red buckle shoes. Nights Jane lies awake and sobs, Please Dick. Please. But no one answers. Not even her little Dick.
Why Dick Is Not Really Dick
Of course Dick isn't really Dick. The name hardly does him justice. No name could. But in order to comprehend Dick, to talk about any Dick, even to think about Dick, one must name him, or name at least an aspect or part of him. A name is thus like a synechdoce, a representation of the whole by a part. As with God, one thinks not of God, but only of the part of God one's mind can hold . . The name, Dick, can hardly suggest who or what Dick really is, that presence of Dick which is beyond all, which is everywhere and in all things. It is true. Dick is even in you. Because Dick is in all things. And all things are in Dick. And in the end one learns this miraculous truth. All is one. One Dick. Of course this truth is beyond comprehension. The mind cannot grasp it. But no one can really grasp Dick for long, not even Dick.
To grasp the truth of Dick, then, to feel its presence, one must learn to meditate. To become calm and know, really know, one as Dick. But how does one meditate?
A simple and common method is to use a mantra. Any mantra. For example one might simply repeat the name, Dick. Or the first letter of the name, Dick. For every name, and every letter in every name, creates a kind of vibration, a humming in the mind. And that humming inspires memories or insights and illuminations. So one might simply start with the letter D, repeating D, again and again, feeling how the mere letter, D, lifts and lowers the tongue, over and over again, dddddddddd. And while lowering and lifting the tongue, ddddddd, one should picture Dick. And feel the nature or presence of Dick, there on your tongue. Ddddddd. Of course this could be disturbing, sitting alone, thinking of Dick and saying, ddddddd. One might choose instead to merely feel Dick's presence. To feel Dick, one should simply close the eyes and think Dick, Dick, Dick. Or call out, Dick, silently or aloud. Sometimes when one calls out to Dick, again and again, as if one's life depends upon Dick, Dick answers. It's true. There is such a thing as a talking Dick.
Reincarnation
One day Dick attends a lecture on Buddhism and discovers that every Dick is a reincarnated Dick . . . just as the Dalai Lama is a reincarnated Dalai Lama. Listening, Dick realizes how this makes perfect sense. He thinks how he has surely been a Dick before and will be a Dick again . . . though sometimes he wishes he could be the Dalai Lama instead.
Afterwards Dick reads that the Dalai Lama wonders if the Dalai Lama could choose not to be the Dalai Lama. He could take off his saffron robes and announce, from now on there will be no more Dalai Lamas. Maybe he, too, will be a Dick. Is it possible? Does the Dalai Lama have a choice? Does a Dick? To be or not to be Dick?
Namaste
Sometimes it boggled Jane's mind to think about it. How she resented Dick. How Dick belonged to the world, the world of so many Dicks from the tiniest Dick to the quantum Dick. How beyond every Dick there was yet another Dick. Sometimes Jane felt so alienated and alone. The world, she said, is made for Dicks, not Janes. But when she complained to her therapist, her therapist said we are most like that which we fear or hate. Thus we might all be Dicks within. Even if we are not Dicks, we are Dicks. So why worry about it? the therapist asked. Instead, be accepting of Dick. Say hello, Dick. Or better yet, namaste Dick, which means hello to the Dick within me that is the Dick within all.
Bio Note
Nin Andrews is the author of The Book of Orgasms, Spontaneous Breasts, and Why They Grow Wings. Her work has been published in Best American Poetry, Ploughshares, The Paris Review, The Virginia Quarterly, and many other literary journals. She is currently editing a book of translations of the French poet, Henri Michaux. Contents
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Nin
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