"such a queer dream, king-post, i never had. you know the old man’s ivory leg, well i dreamed he kicked me with it; and when i tried to kick back, upon my soul, my little man, i kicked my leg right off! and then, presto! ahab seemed a pyramid, and i, like a blazing fool, kept kicking at it. but what was still more curious, flask—you know how curious all dreams are—through all this rage that i was in, i somehow seemed to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was not much of an insult, that kick from ahab. ‘why,’ thinks i, ‘what’s the row? it’s not a real leg, only a false leg.’ and there’s a mighty difference between a living thump and a dead thump. that’s what makes a blow from the hand, flask, fifty times more savage to bear than a blow from a cane.