I have had three dreams of heaven in my life.
One was about 1957 inside the Johnson Wax Building in Racine, Wisconsin; it was night; there were shepherds and clouds.
Two was around 1975 not so much heaven but the afterlife. I was getting a personal check okay'd at Calumet Market , a small old-style food supermarket in Brigham Circle; Max, who pased the judgment on checks, was Jehovah. IT was very crisp to me. Max was fair, but it was not easy to get him to ok a check.
And third was Yankee Stadium, about 1973, when I lived in New York.
As Yankee Stadium has had its last game and is scheduled to be demolished - might as well share.
It was a simple dream as these always are. I was in center field in Yankee Stadium, either talking with Babe Ruth or looking at his plaque. It was otherworldly. Neverland. I have seen this place.
Why did this happen? All I can think is this: When I was a boy we were driving at night - part of a long trip. There was this hospital all lit on a palisade. My father said: That is the hospital where Babe Ruth died. I looked in awe. Maybe I found a jolt of connection to The Babe Ruth Story, with William Bendix. Was there a death bed scene? I can imagine one, with strings, soft focus. Angels humming. Chester A. Riley in the form of Babe Ruth going to heaven.
That seemed to curdle a few neurons and reappear, as I slept an evening in the 70s in my upper bunk at 179 E. 3rd. For my part, I never got to old Yankee stadium.
My son recently told me he had a dream about Calumet Market. Can dream drops descend on DNA threads and genetic memories inherited? I think so. I have been to a sweat sock basketball locker room of the 1930s and can only adjudge this to one of my parents, probably my ma, who played on the high school team.
Picture of Babe's grave.
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