So I had this dream two nights ago. The setting was a New York steakhouse like the former Ben Benson’s–lots of dark paneling and celebrity customers, businessmen, politicians, and a few tourists. (I once met Ed Koch at Benson’s and had a nice chat with him about guide dogs.) Anyway, I was eating a steak with a micro-dot side of creamed spinach when someone said, “Oh, look over there! It’s Melville’s whale!” And there he was, the white whale, enormous, his head thrusting through the far wall, his great jaw resting atop a table.
Yes the great whale was a customer. Oh you hilarious unconscious! What a terrific, ironic and silly vision of whiteness chomping in companionable and vaguely corrupt luxury.