If Only In My Dreams

They swallowed their drinks and returned to the sleeper car. Their bunks were ready. It appeared that everyone else in the car had already bedded down.

Dorothy pulled back the curtain on the lower bunk. Her suitcase was resting on the bed. She snapped it open. Her nightgown, robe and slippers were packed right on top, along with a small toiletries kit.

While she went down the aisle to the rest room to get ready for bed, Joe unlaced his boots, took them off and stashed them under the bunk. He realized that he had no pajamas or robe. He would have to undress in his bunk.

It was quiet in the car. From somewhere, he heard a man’s soft snores, and a pair of quiet, murmuring voices. It felt like the world was at peace.

Dorothy used the bathroom, then changed into her night clothes. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. After folding her clothes into a neat pile, she returned to their booth. Joe was sitting on her bunk, still fully dressed.

He stood as she approached. She put her clothes into the suitcase and shut it. Joe lifted it and slid it under the bunk. When he stood back up, they looked at each other awkwardly.

“Well. I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” Dorothy said.

Joe gazed into her eyes and said “Should I…”

“You should,” Dorothy whispered. She leaned against him, tilting her head and closing her eyes. Joe kissed her softly.

When their lips parted, she opened her eyes to look at him.

Joe grinned. “I was going to say, should I ask you to have breakfast with me tomorrow?”

Dorothy blushed and laughed. “I would be happy to have breakfast with you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, said, “Good night,” and ducked into her bunk.

She watched Joe climb the small metal ladder to the upper bunk, then slipped under her covers and pulled the curtains shut.

Her bed was surprisingly cozy. She settled in and listened to the creaking sounds from above her. She grinned, imagining Joe trying to undress in that small space. Those thoughts quickly turned into images of what Joe would look like undressed. She’d had more to drink that she normally would have, and was feeling a little tipsy and lightheaded. Otherwise, she might not have let her mind go there. She imagined what it would be like to be held in his arms, enjoying kisses much more passionate than the one they had just shared.

She was surprised to realize that she felt no guilt about her attraction to Joe or about kissing him and desiring more. Mike has been gone almost two years, but she had maintained an emotional faithfulness. She wondered now if she not been able to let go of him because she was living in his family home. Now, it felt like she was free to move on with her life. And in matter of hours, she would be back in her own home. She was ready to start life anew.

The commotion from the upper bunk had stopped. “Sweet dreams, soldier,” she whispered. Within a few minutes, the gentle rhythm of the train lulled her to sleep.

Joe didn’t have too much trouble getting out of his uniform, although he did bang his head on the top of the bunk once or twice. Once he was down to his shorts and undershirt, he rolled his uniform up, stashed it by his feet, then got under the covers.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts. He was elated by the kiss he shared with Dorothy, but somewhat frightened by it as well. He had told her that she deserved better than him. She clearly did not believe that to be true. He didn’t know if that was wisdom or naïveté on her part.

In either case, they had made a date for New Year’s Eve.

It took him a long time to get to sleep. He dreaded that another bad dream would come. But eventually sleep overtook him.

And the dreams did come.

Once again, he was in front of the house on Wilson Street, but now he was at the bottom of the porch steps. He expected his feet to be as heavy as they had been before, but he lifted them with little effort, climbed the steps to the porch and opened the front door.

A sense of dread rose as he stepped into an empty room. He rushed up the stairs to the bedroom. Everything was gone, the bed, the dresser even the pictures that had hung on the wall. Bounding back down the stairs he called out, “Judy? Where are you?”

The only answer he heard was the echo of his own voice.

He fled the empty house, and found himself not on Wilson Street, but on a Rue or Strasse in some fallen city.

He climbed a massive pile of bricks and splintered timbers and broken glass, the remains of some blasted building. When he reached the top, he saw before him a quiet, snowy street. A small house stood at the end. While the street around it was dark, every window of the house glowed with warm light. The front door slowly opened and he stepped toward it, but when he did, the rubble rose in front of him.

With every step he took, the pile grew higher. He climbed until his legs gave out. He fell to his knees and crawled. Still he could not reach the summit, and began to lose hope that he would ever see the warm, safe home again…

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dorothy did not know what woke her up until she heard the voice a second time.

“Pipe down, buddy,” it shouted, “People are trying to sleep.”

It was then that she noticed the groans coming from above her. She climbed out of her bunk and stood with her face near Joe’s curtain.

“Joe, are you okay?” she whispered.

The rude voice called out again. “Hey lady, shut him up, will ya?”

Dorothy ignored them. She heard an incoherent mumble from inside the bunk. She pushed back the curtain. In the dim light from the aisle, she saw that Joe was still asleep, but his head was jerking from side to side.

“Joe, wake up,” she said, lightly tapping his shoulder. When he didn’t respond, she climbed the ladder and crawled into his bunk.

It was a tight fit and she had to squirm to fit alongside him. As she did so, she heard him draw in a long breath, then say, “What? Where…” in an anxious tone.

“It’s okay,” Dorothy whispered, rubbing his chest. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. We’re still on the train.”

It took a few seconds for Joe’s head to clear.

“Dorothy?” he asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to quiet you down so the other passengers don’t throw you off the train,” she said, “You were making quite a lot of noise in your sleep.”

“Was I? I’m sorry, I was having a bad dream.”

“Hey, why don’t the two of you knock it off,” the annoyed passenger shouted.

“Why don’t you?” a second voice asked. “Your making more noise than they are.”

Another voice called out, “Hey pal, you just get back from overseas?”

“Yeah,” Joe said.

“Don’t pay any attention to that home front hero,”the voice answered, “We all get bad dreams.”

There were murmurs of approval from around the car.

“Thanks, buddy,” Joe said.

Dorothy laid her head on Joe’s shoulder. “Were you dreaming about the war?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Joe’s hand found hers and squeezed it. “Not exactly.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay. Just hard to talk about.”

Dorothy raised her head, propping it up on one elbow. Looking down at Joe, she said, “How about if you tell me the last really nice dream you had. Maybe that will chase the bad ones away.”

Joe chuckled. “I think it will take more than that.” It had been a long time since he’d had a good dream that he could remember.

“Okay,” Dorothy said when he didn’t have an answer, “I’ll tell you one of mine. I have the same dream every year around Christmas time. It’s nothing special, but it always makes me happy. I’m a little girl again and we all go to see the Christmas displays at Marshall Fields. Did you ever go?”

“No. We never had much money and I think my father was afraid we’d want things we couldn’t have.”

“That’s sad.”

“You can’t miss what you never had.”

“I think you can.”

Joe raised his hand and stroked her hair. “Finish telling me your dream,” he said.

“We are in the line to see Santa Claus, me and my mom and dad and Sybil. That’s my little sister. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have a sister, but I haven’t seen her in years. She got married and moved out to California. I think she couldn’t get away fast enough.”

Dorothy frowned. “I’m sorry. Anyway, we finally reached the front of the line and I got to sit on Santa’s lap. But when he asked me what I wanted, all I could think of was things I already had. Isn’t that strange?”

“I think it’s one of the nicest dreams I’ve ever heard.”

He said no more and Dorothy thought he had gone back to sleep, but then he said, “I used to dream about home a lot. You know…before…”

She touched the side of his face. “Everything‘s going to be all right, Joe.”

“Funny thing is, I didn’t dream about the past. I dreamed about the future. We had a little house on Wilson Street. I would dream about playing in the yard with a little boy, throwing a ball. And there was a little girl running about. Our kids, the ones we were going to have. I dreamed about that a lot. And, of course, Judy was there. And sometimes, my mom and dad. But they were already dead, so none of it made any sense, really.”

“Dreaming about a happy home makes sense.”

“Dreams are just dreams.”

“Sometimes they come true.”

“That one won’t.” His voice sounded so forlorn that it brought a tear to Dorothy’s eye.

“Are your dreams always exactly the same?” she asked.

“No, I guess they are a little different every time.”

“Right. So that one might still come true, just with some of the details changed.”

She kissed the side of his face. He turned his head toward her and their lips brushed, then met.

They turned on their sides to face each other. Joe took Dorothy in his arms and hugged her tight. She held his head as their kisses grew more passionate.

After a moment, they drew back and gazed into each others eyes in the dim light.

“I haven’t wanted to be with anyone since, you know,” Joe said, his voice nearly breaking.

“Me either,” Dorothy whispered, “I didn’t know if I ever would.”

“I want to make love with you, but…”

“This isn’t private enough.”

“I want it to be just right. And we have a date for New Years.”

“Gee,” Dorothy said, giggling, ”That seems like a long time away.”

“Maybe Boxing Day?”

“We can pretend we are in England.” She snuggled against Joe and closed her eyes, but suddenly burst out in a loud laugh.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” someone across the aisle groaned.

“What’s so funny?” Joe whispered.

“I was just imagining if we did it, what the man in the green coat would think.”

“He’d think I was a very lucky fellow,” Joe said.

They kissed again, and within a few minutes, drifted into peaceful slumber.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Joe woke from a dreamless sleep. For a moment he thought Dorothy was still beside him, but realized that only the lingering scent of her perfume was still there.

He sat up and quickly dressed, then slipped out of his compartment and dropped to the floor.

Putting his face close to the curtains of the lower bunk, he whispered “Dorothy.” When he got no answer he shook the curtain, then peeked behind it.

Well, she didn’t jump off the train, he thought when he saw that the bunk was empty. She must be either in the bathroom or the dining car. He sat on the edge of the bunk, fetched his boots from beneath it and put them on, then went to look for her.

Dorothy sat in the dining car, sipping her coffee. It was almost nine o’clock and Joe had not emerged from his bunk. She was anxious to see him, but didn’t want to wake him. How many nights, she wondered, had he slept in a hole in the ground or somewhere even worse? He had earned the right to sleep in.

The porter approached her. “Ma’am,” he said, “We’ve received a reply to your telegram.”

Dorothy took the envelope from him, opened it and read the contents. She smiled, folded the paper, and slipped it into her bag.

Joe came into the dining car. As soon as he sat down, a waiter was beside him, pouring a cup of coffee.

“Your uniform is looking a little rumbled this morning,” Dorothy said.

“You should have seen the one I wore last Christmas.”

Dorothy was surprised by his reply, and considered remarking that she was glad that he could make such a joke. Her better judgment told her to be glad, and let it be.

“I’ve been waiting for you before I ordered breakfast.”

“That’s very sweet of you.”

“I hear that a lot,” she said with a grin. She picked up the menu and looked it over.

When the waiter returned, she ordered French toast and a side of bacon.

“I won’t be able to smell bacon and not eat some,” Joe said. He ordered bacon and eggs and a glass of orange juice.

“I keep thinking of things I haven’t had in a long time,” he told Dorothy,

“Does it seem like the first time all over again?”

“Sort of, but the first time is always special, isn’t it?”

Dorothy blushed and changed the subject. “Did you know that you can send telegrams from the train?”

“No, I didn’t. Did you send a telegram?”

“I did,” she said, smiling, “I let my father know we’d be on time. He’s going to pick us up at the station.”

“Us?”

“Sure. I asked him if he could give you a ride as well. Oh. and speaking of messages…”

She dug a ball point pen out of her shoulder bag.

“I’ll be expecting a call.” She wrote her phone number on the back of the telegram envelope, and handed it to him.

Joe took it and folded it, then slipped it into his breast pocket. “I keep my word,” he said.

“Yeah, you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would stand a girl up on New Year’s Eve.”

The waiter brought their breakfast and informed them that the train would be arriving in Chicago in half an hour. They ate in silence, until Dorothy looked out the window. Her eyes widened and her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

Joe turned to see what had captured her attention.

“Lake Michigan,” she whispered.

The lake stretched, blue and serene, to beyond the horizon. Joe gazed at the calm water and thought about the tumultuous ocean he had crossed to get home.

“What are you thinking?” Dorothy asked.

“I’m thinking about how peaceful it looks.”

“It’s starting to snow.”

“A white Christmas, just like that song.”

They finished their breakfast and returned to their booth. It had been transformed back into seats while they ate.

The train followed the shore of the lake and entered the outskirts of the city. Neither of them spoke much. As they passed through the crowded neighborhoods of the South Side, Dorothy though about Joe growing up there, and it confirmed her desire to know everything about him.

The train pulled into Union Station, stopped, then lurched forward a few feet and came to rest.

Joe slung the straps of his duffel bag over his shoulder and picked up Dorothy’s suitcase.

“How gallant,” she said.

“Just so long as you don’t think I’m a creep like that guy in the green coat.”

“Of course not. He seems to have disappeared. You must have scared him off.”

They shuffled slowly down the aisle, as the passengers before them deboarded, one at a time. While they waited for one portly man to wrestle his suitcase from under his seat, Joe leaned back and whispered to Dorothy.

“By the way, you snored.”

She giggled and poked him in the ribs. “Why should I believe you?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping you’d take me at my word.”

They reached the platform and Joe stepped off the train, then held his hand out to help Dorothy down.

The station was not as crowded as they had expected.

“Well, it is Christmas Eve,” Dorothy said, “I suppose most people have already gotten wherever had wanted to go.”

They crossed the station and walked out on to Canal Street. Dorothy spotted her father immediately.

“There he is,” she said with undisguised excitement.
She rushed forward toward a red work truck parked amidst the line of taxicabs along the curb. Big white letters on the side advertised Lake View Plumbing.

Joe watched as Dorothy dashed to her father. From a distance, he looked like a big man, but when he wrapped his arms around his daughter, Joe saw that he was actually no taller than she was. He wore a battered fedora tipped back on his head and he sported a bushy mustache over his broad toothy grin. Overall, he looked to Joe like a friendly walrus.

After a long hug and a half dozen kisses, Dorothy turned to Joe and gestured for him to come closer.

“Daddy, this is Joe,” she said, with a bright smile.

Her father held out his hand, and Joe shook it.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” he said.

“Call me Phil, please.”

He took Dorothy’ suitcase from Joe and stepped to the back of the truck. He opened the door and put the case inside.

“Toss yours in there, too,” he told Joe.

“Thank you sir,” Joe said, hoisting his duffel into the truck, “If you could drop me off at…”

“I’m not dropping you anywhere,” Phil said, “There is a nice room above my shop. You can stay there until you get things straightened out.”

One look at Dorothy’s face, and Joe knew not to argue.

Dorothy got in the passenger door and slid over to the middle of the bench seat. She waved for Joe to get in beside her. Her father squeezed into the driver’s seat.

“Say, what do I smell?” he asked.

Dorothy sniffed, then said, “Liverwurst. You want one?”

“Sure.”

Dorothy took a sandwich from her bag and handed it to him. “How about you?” she asked Joe, “Changed your mind?”

Joe shook his head.

Phil ate his sandwich, holding it in one hand while steering with the other. It took him several minutes to clear the chaos of taxicabs coming and going, and while he muttered some choice curses at the cabbies under his breath, he never lost his smile.

“You know, I served in the first one,” he said when they were finally moving unimpeded. “The war to end all wars, they called it.”

He snorted softly, then continued, “Never got overseas though. They sent us out to Oregon , to work as lumberjacks. I spent the war cutting down trees for the Army. Always felt kind of bad about that.”

“You shouldn’t,” Joe said, “You did your part.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. If you don’t mind my asking, where did you spend last Christmas?”

Joe hesitated a moment, then said, “Belgium. The Ardennes.”

“Jesus,” Phil muttered, then forcing the cheer back into his voice said, “Well, Wrigleyville won’t seem so bad.”

“Dad,” Dorothy said, “He’s a Sox fan.”

Phil sighed. “Well, he’s welcome anyhow.”

Dorothy squeezed Joe’s hand.

“So, what did you do before the war?” Phil asked.

“I worked on the loading dock at Armour,” Joe told him.

“Packin’ pork, huh?” Phil said with a laugh. “So, let me ask you, what do you know about plumbing?”

Joe shrugged. “The faucet with the H is hot, the one with the C is cold.

“Do you know the rest of the alphabet?”

“If they haven’t changed it while I was gone, sure.”

“Good. Because I need another pair of hands at the shop. You interested?”

“Really, Daddy?” Dorothy asked before Joe could answer.

“I thought Ralph would be coming back now that the war is over, but he decided he wants to stay in the Navy. So, I need to find some help.”

What the hell did she tell him in that telegram, Joe thought.

Dorothy said, “You can say no, it’s alright.”

“I’m just…” Joe fumbled for words. “It just seems…”

Phil laughed. “Seems too good to be true that you met a girl on a train,” he said, “And before you know it, because you did, you got a job and a place to live?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Joe muttered.

“Well, here is what you have to understand,” Phil told him, reaching over to pat his daughter’s hand. “Dorothy is actually a Christmas angel. Santa Claus left her in her mama’s stocking one year.”

“He did not,” Dorothy said with a giggle, “I happen to have a birth certificate that says I was born at Lakeside Hospital.”