I want you
to be happy."
So I switched to the most expensive unit and I was happy,
and the other disciples seemed happy, and Rama seemed happy.
Boulder, after all, felt at least a mile high until a few days later,
when Rama shouted at us for having once again destroyed the dream,
the Light, and the city.
"This is crazy," I thought. After the meeting, I went for a walk.
I thought about how, earlier in the trip, Cathy had approached me
and said, "This may sound funny, but is Rama...*okay*?"
"What do you mean?" I had replied.
"He's...well...it's just that something doesn't feel right."
"Rama is fine," I told her. "He just *sees* on a different level
than we do."
But now, as I strayed from the condo grounds, I wondered if Cathy
had been on to something. I thought about how the other disciples
had seemed pensive lately, as if they too shared her concern.
I thought about how, during the trip, Rama seemed to be flipping out
of control. "Maybe Rama is not okay," I thought.
Meanwhile, my readings and reflections on Kesey had located Rama
within a cultural context which, like the knowledge that the Wizard
of Oz was a man behind a curtain, largely deflated his projected
images and metaphors. This enabled me to question elements
of his world without fear of reprisal.
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