Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

(Originally published 11/23/21)

No, I did not sail away to China in a little rowboat to find ya. But it was a strange one, nonetheless. The dream commenced in my childhood bedroom. I was a boy. My father and mother were there. While opening the back window for a reason that now escapes me, it fell—swoosh—to our concrete backyard below. Remarkably, the glass did not shatter. During my Wonder Years, we had, in fact, countless window issues.

Many of our windows would not stay open without an assist from a piece of wood, several books, or a glass bottle. My mother would hang out wash to dry—it is what people did back then—and prop open the window with a metal rod that once upon a time was a working part of it. One false move and the window could have come crashing down like a guillotine.

Anyway, back to my dream chronology. I hurried to the backyard to retrieve the fallen window but instead found myself indoors and walking down a flight of stairs to the basement of the Spat House. The “Spats” were unpleasant and unfriendly neighbors from the past. I, though, encountered no Spat family members in the dimly lit and dreary crypt.

However, my intact window was there but so were a cast of unsavory-looking characters. One of them offered to carry the window home for me. Since he was on the scary side—as were all the basement loiterers—I accepted his offer and walked alongside him. What choice did I have?

At some point the mystery man said, “It’s going to cost you $18.” Why $18? For what exactly? I informed him that I did not have cash on my person but would get it at the house. I also told him I would give him a $20 bill. “Today’s your lucky day!” he replied to my generous offer. “Take your pick,” the fellow—Microsoft Word recommends “person” as gender-neutral and more inclusive—said, opening a bag containing various sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. An unwrapped donut was on top of them, which I said I would take when I returned with the money.

Arriving at my house, I plowed through measurable snow to access the front door, which was odd. The snow was not there moments before. Also, I was now an adult wearing a prosthetic knee. I had aged forty years in a nano-second. How did that happen? When I returned with cash in hand, the man who carried my window had vanished. He did not get his $20 and I did not get my donut. What did it all mean? Sigmund Freud said, “Every dream is a wish.” Well, at least that is what Dr. Sidney Freedman of M*A*S*H said he said. Strange dream. Strange wish. Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride.

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)