Irv Senne is a 94 year old who has some really cool dreams and not only remembers them but has agreed to write about them and share them with us here at Boomer for Life. Each of the dreams he reports about will be presented in his own words – no editing has been done. This is the second one of his posts. Pinto comment – LOL Warning!
About the Author
Irv Senne Irv was born in Long Island and served as an Air Force officer during WWII. He is a graduate of Middlebury College and Carnegie-Melon University. He now lives in his home in Scarborough Maine. Most of Irv’s professional career, he was involved in the graphic arts, photography and printing business. In fact for many years he owned his own business called Pleasant Hill Press.
Irv now works as a home inspector. Irv’s daughter is a friend of mine. I know you hear this from me constantly but how lucky am I!
Pet Moose –I had a dream last night that I had a pet moose, and I carried him around in the trunk of my car. He would take a leap, and in he would go, landing light as a butterfly, and curl up, ready to go. Sometimes he would show off and leap from the rear of the car clear over it, and land as easily at the front, on all fours. Once, a friend asked me where I kept the moose, and I said “In the trunk”. So I let the moose demonstrate how easily he got into the trunk. The moose takes a running start, trips on the edge of the bumper, and lands half in and half out of the trunk. I was mightily embarrassed, and the moose was quite upset.
Detective School – I had a dream last night that I wanted to learn to be a detective. The courses were being offered at Colby-Sawyer College in New London, New Hampshire. I had to go by plane, and it turned out to be an old WW II DC-3 aircraft, painted an olive-drab color. There was no airport and we had to use an old back-country road for a runway. As we were taxing along to get up speed to take off, I mentioned to the pilot that he should be careful of those over-head wires that crossed the road from time to time. He said, OK, not to worry, he knew of an open stretch up ahead where it was safe to take off. We had to land on a golf course near the college. We did not have a regular classroom, but a rather large area with conference tables here and there. They were piled high with books of “mug-shots” and other material related to the course. Our instructor, who looked like Tom Wolfe, had on a rather elegant cream-colored suit, but several buttons were missing, and you could see tufts of thread sticking out where the buttons used to be. I thought that it was somewhat denigrating to his stature.