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That was the joy of "Little Nemo" at its best, the thing that set it apart from McCay's other strips like "Little Sammy Sneeze" and "A Pilgrim's Progress," and even "Dream of the Rarebit Fiend": It didn't just evoke its readers' dreams, it seeped into them. Nemo is too small to act, really, and he doesn't understand the real world yet, let alone the subconscious world in which his desires and fears are made strangely real, and which he leaves by falling or drowning or being shaken into wakefulness by unfamiliar voices that become familiar as he opens his eyes. But McCay also realized that the dream world is a richly aestheticized one -- streamlined in its motives, stripped down to the things the conscious mind cares about most, and amplified into impossibility. jon posted this at 10:28 PM |
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Several years ago I wrote a short piece about my favorite comic strip, Winsor McKay's Little Nemo in Slumberland, which was 
