Phantom Limb. Chapter one

Do you ever have dreams that are so real you can't tell if they really happened or not even after you wake up? Have you ever dreamt you had a pointless conversation with a friend who you later remembered was dead? I have these dreams all the time, I think I can say I have a dream like that every day. The only difference is I have these dreams when I'm awake.

My friend Louis worked in a factory, or more accurately, a mill, for 17 years. This mill produced bags of animal feed for distribution at pet stores and farm suppliers. The bags of feed were very pretty to look at with pictures of little Pomeranian dogs on the outside or well groomed horses with an instructional message below like "For older, less active dogs." or "For long haired adult cats." I still buy that brand of dog food for my cocker spaniel "Nancy." She is a middle aged over-active dog with a penchant for peeing on my freshly laundered underwear. Louis once took me on a tour of his mill. It was like a medieval fun-house of sorts. Nothing that went on in there seemed to make any sense whatsoever. There were pipes leaking hot steam everywhere and noises so loud and obnoxious you couldn't hear yourself think. I saw a huge box on giant springs shaking madly and puffing out dust. Enormous cogs turned aimlessly and 2 story cast iron structures that looked like oversized washing machines heaved and groaned. There was a sign as you entered that said "No accidents in __ days!" The part that would tell you the number of days since the last catastrophe was a little square of blackboard with a tray below it holding a piece of chalk and an eraser. There was no number in the space since it hadn't been even 1 day since the last accident.

Louis wore a hard hat and he gave me a loaner so I could take the tour with him. Big and small items often fell from several stories above you in this mill, and the hat was more than a silly occupational requirement. Louis' hat was dinged all over and speckled with greasy stains. Hot fat was used to make the different grains that comprised the feed stick together to form them into pellets or chunks or "nuggets." Sometimes the big machines would spew out the hot fat on the cold floor or the body temperature humans. Grains were constantly being transported by pipe to all sections of the factory and the lighter grains could escape through the tiny gaps in the joints and seams. It seemed as if it were snowing year round inside the mill as the alfalfa would float in the air. The potential for fire or explosion was high, and the machines with their moving parts and noise raised the opportunity for a serious injury to an alarming level. Louis played guitar and wore gloves to protect his hands from callouses and burns even though there was a rule against wearing them. Some machines, if you accidently got your hand stuck inside of them could pinch off your fingers or your hand. If you wore gloves, and I don't entirely understand the physics involved here, the machine could pinch the fabric and pull your entire body inside. A little more than a year after Louis gave me the tour, a machine that makes horse feed grabbed his glove and popped his right arm off at the shoulder. The machine did such a good job of grinding up his whole limb that there was nothing left to re-attach. Louis has a picture of a black stallion tattooed on his prosthetic arm with a message printed beneath it. It says "For the lustrous coat of show horses."