the glasses one wears in dreams

I have a tiny ode to a major classic up a quarrtsiluni today.
Please to enjoy!

That reminds me - before my right hand started hurting, and it still does a bit although it's better and I'm trying not to burden it too much or my right eye, either, which sometimes starts twitching in sympathy - I began a meme that qarrtsiluni editor Dave Bonta tagged me on. I'm supposed to tag 8 people, but I'm pretty chicken, although I will tag Ron Hardy if he's game because he knows and I know that he's way way better at this than me. Before I bail completely, here's what I'd done:

Is half a stone still a whole stone?
As much as I don’t like to go into it, it would be politically incorrect to keep half a stone from being considered a whole stone. Is a man who comes home from war without his arms and legs half a man? Is Eric the half a bee no longer an entity? Don’t listen to the ads – in many cases, size does not matter.

Do grains of sand get tired of being recycled into mountains?
Sand has to do its bit just like the rest of us and unlike the rest of us does so without whining. Most sand is made into glass, bottles and the goblet that made Harry Potter possible. The sand that skips that and gets to make the mountains is called sandecstatic.

If you crossed a bat with a mushroom, would you get an umbrella?
No, you’d get a Flederpilzmaus, at least in German.

Do the glasses one wears in a dream require a prescription?
According to Freud, the glasses one wears in a dream are custom made, individually shrinkwrapped and a byproduct of the day’s residues and displacement. Say one day you see a pancake being flipped in a restaurant window and that pancake later shows up in your dream as a beige car flipping off a cliff, killing someone you didn’t even know you didn’t like. Glasses symbolize our inability to perceive things as they are. The dream is the glasses, prescribed special for you.

What songs do they sing in a school without windows?
A school without windows may have Dutch doors, which are just as good and extemely practical. Thus it is meet and right and our bounden duty to sing The Double Dutch Bus in school. Fee fi fo fum. Well I’ll be darned here it comes.

Do the daisies love us or not?
The oil is still spewing. The daisies hate our guts.

Is there any reason to believe that we’ll have working mouthparts in the next life?
In my next life I would be happy to have even non-working mouthparts. I’m not a big fan of either talking or eating, both of which everyone tends to overdo. And talking is not as important as writing anyway.

What kind of cartilage connects us to the stars?
There are some stars you don’t want to have a connection with at all. There are whole neighborhoods of Beverly Hills that make me want to take that secret dog pill that turns you into a mutt well away from the homo saps. But because of fossils and chimps, DNA, and the sad, fragile smile of Sissy Spacek, we are linked to the stars, by far more than cartilage.