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JOHNNY GOODTURN By Charles R. Tanner I am bothered by a dream. It is one of those consecutive dreams, or maybe they call them repetitive dreams; anyway, it's one of the kind of dreams that you dream over and over again, each time a little different. I only started to worry about it a week or two ago, but I'm worrying more and more as the days go by. And it's such an inconsequential sort of a dream, too. Nothing frightening about it at all. I see a boy scout, sitting on a rock and telling me a story. That's all there is to it, a boy in a scout's cap and neckerchief, sitting on a rock and telling a story. When I first dreamed this dream, it didn't make much sense, for it seem-ed that I had come in late, that the story was already half over when the dream commenced. And I woke up before the story was finished. But when I dreamed the dream again, a few days later, this young fellow was telling a different part of the same story. And gradually, over a period of several weeks, I have managed to piece the whole story together. That is why I am worrying. You see, there is a significance to the story that the little fellow who is telling it doesn't seem to realize. It's a terribly important conclusion that I have drawn from what he has told me, but he doesn't seem to understand it at all- Johnny Winstead, to give him credit, never really wanted to play hooky in the first place. He had al-ready seen a circus once, and if he didn't |
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