Stitches: Section V

A subtle parallel I noticed in this section was the resemblance of the house in David's dream to the dilapidated house where his friends lived in the city — not only did I feel like the houses looked a bit similar, but perhaps symbolically there is a similarity as well. In the house in the dream David is somewhat content, but he is enclosed, trapped; he cannot experience the real world unless he overcomes his fear and leaves the house. David's situation while he was living in the one-room apartment was similar in my mind, though the house played a different role. David was able to feel relatively normal by making friends with social outcasts, and yet he still felt "blocked" as was depicted by his paintings of a brick wall and a closed door.

Question: In the dream, what is the significance of David's toy car, his only mildly effective probe to the world immediately outside his house? What could this signify in the context of real-life hopes and fears?

The very last section of Stitches effectively frames the novel and makes it more complete; accordingly it is a good time to analyze the issue of identity. Though it is actually in the end of the previous section, I thought the section where David revisits the fetus suspended in a display in the hospital represents his coming to terms with his unfortunate childhood. He voluntarily makes this "one last stop" after his mother passes away to revisit the fanciful fear of his past, and observe the subject of his abhorrence as an adult. There is nothing written about this particular moment; in fact, there are no more captions until the end of the chapter. The illustrations were still very thought-provoking in the context of David's life.

The latter half of David's dream has its own inlaid message about David's persona as a child and as an adult. In the dream he sees his mother (not all too figuratively) sweeping the path to his prospective life of insanity. Noting that in the dream he is once again six years old, David had had such a troubled life even by that age that the path his mother was paving was a logical ending to the story.

The last page, however, refutes this possible future, housing only two words: "I didn't." This is likely the most profound statement of identity (and also fate) in the novel. Although the odds were against him, David made the conscious choice and effort to lead a normal life — and his art, not his past, became his identity.