Story by Jon Stalnaker AKA The Studebaker Dude
I often wake up in the morning frustrated or angry about some stupid dream that woke me up. Typically, these dreams center on a difficult or impossible task that needs to be done, and I am either the manager responsible for getting it done or the craft employee who is frustrated by having to do something unreasonable. Usually, it’s because that is what I was instructed to do by an idiot supervisor who doesn’t listen to reason or have any common sense.
It’s silly to be so upset about a dream when I no longer have to do what has me all worked up. Yet here I am, all grouchy, telling myself it was just a dream, while Carlene is asking me what I’m all worked up about. And I can’t explain it because the dreams disappear from my memory almost instantaneously. Is this just me?
In the last quarter of 1969, I was living in an apartment flat in Chicago with 3 other guys. We were all students at the DeVry Institute of Technology. My closest friend was Joe Feret, and we shared a bunk bed in one of the tiny bedrooms. I remember one time in the middle of the night when Joe jumped out of bed, flipped on the light, and started scribbling on note paper. He finished, turned the light off, and went back to sleep.
I asked him in the morning what that was all about, and he told me that he was having a dream. He said he took a class in psychology and was told that if he wanted to explore and review his dreams, he should write them down as fast as he could before they disappeared from his mind, and that was what he had done. I asked him what he wrote in his notes, and he said, “I don’t know, I can’t read my gibberish handwriting.”
That was so hilarious to me that I have never forgotten it. I have tried it a few times in my life, and this morning was another time. I always remember the part about penmanship and am careful to write notes clearly.
This morning, I dreamed about visiting the local grocery store from my youth and the Five and Dime store next door, which I used to frequent as a child. I was my current age, looking for a job, and talking to the staff about the memories from my youth about the store. They were all fascinated by my memories, which included three of my siblings, an aunt, and two cousins who lived across the street from us (these family members have all passed away).
I remember telling them about the time I found a nickel in the gutter and proceeded to the Five and Dime store to cash in on this gigantic windfall of money. I was a single-digit midget at the time (younger than ten years old). This would have been in the late 50s, when you could buy multiple items for 5 cents, which I did.
Anyway, it was an amusing memory, and it was nice to see my family again. I woke up happy this time. I rushed into the bathroom and grabbed the notebook out of the drawer before I forgot the whole thing. And yes, that notebook was in that drawer for that very reason. Thanks, Joe, for planting that idea in my brain in such an amusing way that it made it unforgettable. It actually works as long as you take good notes and do not write down incoherent gibberish.
It’s funny (figuratively, not literally) that I can be in a bad mood for a long time after awaking from a stupid dream that I can’t even remember. On the other side, it can be wonderful to wake up refreshed and happy to have interacted with loved ones that have been gone for sometimes decades.
The mind is an incredible organ that contains so much more than we don’t even understand. Maybe some super smart people understand it, but I don’t. I prefer to live in my innocent ignorance of the wonders of this world. It only feeds my need to have Jesus in my life. I can’t figure this crazy stuff out on my own, and I appreciate the fact that I don’t have to. But I wish I could figure out a way to have only these sweet dreams and no longer the ones that infuriate me.
Being an old man is frustrating enough without having to be a grumpy old man. But today, I wake up smiling inside; happy to have spent some time with Mom, Valerie, Viki, Jim, Didi, Irma, and Alan. Sweet dreams are made of these…
First Day of School 1956
This was me about the time I found that nickel in the gutter at Oak Park. It looks like I have it in my pocket, but trust me, I spent the whole thing at the Five and Ten Cent Store before I went home that day.
I got a lot of stuff, mostly candy. Maybe that’s leftover candy in my pocket. Things were cheap back in the 50s, and 5 cents was a jackpot find in those days…
I remember taking this picture. My Auntie June took it in front of her house. She took me to school my first day in Kindergarten.
Dig those Beaver Cleaver jeans. That’s the way we wore them back then. Eventually, our legs got as long as the pants. We all wore them that way. We didn’t get new jeans until we wore these out. I’m talking about torn-up knees and faded. We threw them away when they got like that. Who would buy them that way??
And look at that belt buckle. A future cowboy wannabe for sure…
