Tuesday, August 11, 2020

June 7, 1944: Invasive Dreams

Letter from Opa to Grandmother, June 7, 1944.


Public Correspondence

Young Men's Christian Association
401 East Tenth Street * Kansas City, Missouri

Honey, dear,

This is going to be a short letter, because I am awfully tired today. I didn't sleep very well last night; kept dreaming about that darn invasion.

Tell Mrs. Frazen she is nuts. You don't have to give her a day's notice before leaving, as long as you pay your room rent for one more month. That might be different in the nursery school; you will have to find out. I am awfully glad you are planning on coming this weekend; let me know whether you come by bus or train, what time you get here, and, if by bus, what bus line you take. They don't all arrive at the same depot.

No mail today, except your letter. Still no permission to go to K.C. I can't just go up and tell them the situation, because the U.S. Attorney to whom I report is in Topeka, and not here. If I don't get answer by the end of the week, though, I'll write to him.

I bet you have been busy without Mrs. Jones; is she back now? How are the brats? The darn viper of yours still alive? That girl from your hoe town is at least some company for you. Thanks for drawing her picture for me. She looks like your twin sister.

Good night, dear:


Better find another mail box. Your letter, written June 5, was stamped 530pm, June 6. They may have a mail box in Lawrence that is taken out more than once a week.

Opa was right, it's not a long letter with not too much said. He's still waiting on word of whether he can work in his field and not at a restaurant. 

Opa said he was tired because his sleep was interrupted by dreams of "that darn invasion." I can only imagine. I know that now in this pandemic, my sleep has been more haphazard and my dreams more bizarre. I even have moments in my dream when my brain is just awake enough to say "wait, we shouldn't be here! We should be social distancing!" And then I wake up instead of enjoying a benign dream about a backyard BBQ. 

I can't imagine what Opa's dreams were.

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