03x20 - The Dream Book

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TV 2021 I must have been dreaming.

Yeah, what were you dreaming?

You know what I was dreaming about?

I was dreaming that this whole
carpet was covered with diamonds,

and I was walking around on these diamonds in my bare feet.

Oh, nice walk.

Why don't you look it up in your dream
book and find out what it means?

How did you know I had a dream book?

Oh, we all know that, Bub.

It's your secret bias, isn't it?

Some secret.

You know, I know what diamonds mean.

They mean that I'm going to meet a blonde woman,
or that I'm going to get trampled on by a herd of goats.

What if you've got a choice?

I'd take a blonde.

What time is it?

Oh, it's after 11.

Had to work late again.

Well, when did you come home at all for?

I was going back to the office in a couple of hours.

Well, I'm not going to the office tomorrow, Bud.

I work here at home.

It's a good thing.

You know, they've got one of those organizers
out at the plant that's been pestering me to death.

At least he won't be able to get at me here tomorrow.

Well, what does he organize?

Oh, he wants me to join his group.

They get together and play around with it
a couple of nights a week.

Oh, maybe you're going to meet the blonde woman.

No, not that kind of playing around.

You know, saxophone type, four fellas in a
smoke-filled room.

I see.

I'll tell you how we'll settle this.

I'll meet the blonde woman, and you get
trampled on by the herd of ghosts.

Good night, Steve.

Sleep tight.

Well, the way I'd come.

Dad.

Oh, a nightmare?

Yeah, I guess so.

Dad, you okay?

What's going on here?

Dad had a bad dream.

Somebody was kicking him.

I'm glad you hollered and woke me up.

I was dreaming that there's three great
big hairy Sudsy Pfeiffers coming at me.

It was worse than dreaming about girls.

Okay.

What was your dream about, Dad?

Oh, I was being chased by a man all dressed in white.

He had a long white beard.

He was carrying a trumpet.

Oh.

You know, maybe we better check Bub's dream book.

You know, Hank dreamed about a bear once,
and a week later his aunt's house burned down.

Gross.

Robbie, that dream book of Bub's is a lot
of hocus pocus, and you know it.

Well, I'm sorry I woke you fellas up.

You better get back to bed so you can get up for school.

Good night.

Night, Dad.

Night, Dad.

Thanks for hollering, Dad.

I see Sudsy every day, and I can't
stand when I have to see him at night, too.

Turn the light out, will you, Mike?

Yeah.

Uh, Dad?

Yeah, Mike?

You know, a dream is a message from your subconscious.

Mm-hmm.

Well, uh, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea
if we deciphered this dream.

I mean, you've been having quite a few nightmares lately.

Yeah, well, we'll do that some time, Mike.

Mm-hmm.

All right.

Let's, uh, let's try the word association test.

Okay.

I'll say a word, and you reply with the
first word that comes into your mind.

Uh-huh.

I say clock, and you say time.

Uh-huh.

Clock.

Mouse.

Mouse?

Oh, right up the clock.

Child.

Parent.

Father.

Son.

Old.

Shoe.

Young.

All right.

Ready.

Okay, we'll talk about it later.

Night, Dad.

Night.

What's going on here?

A slumber party?

Dad had another one of his dreams.

I was probing his subconscious.

You let the inside of your father's head alone.

A dream is a message from the subconscious, Bub.

Then tell it to the telegraph company.

Well, something is bothering Dad, and I
think somebody ought to do something about it.

At this hour of the morning?

For the time being, your father and I are
running your life.

Why, there's nothing worse than the stubbornness of age.

Unless it's the sap of youth.

I'm worried about Dad.

That dream has meaning.

Dad's gonna meet good fortune.

Bub looked it up in his dream book.

Chip, that dream book is right straight
out of the Middle Ages.

And don't let Bub tell you any differently.

What's that about my dream book?

Really, Bub, you ought to quit filling
Chip's head with superstition.

Now, it's been scientifically proved that
dreams reveal your inner self.

They have absolutely nothing to do with fortune telling.

For 2,000 years, people have been reading
the fortune through dreams.

And now, suddenly, it's all over just
because you're going to college.

Is that it, Charlie?

Well, that's about the most archaic
statement I've ever heard.

Well, just remember you heard it here first.

I think dreams are neat.

I got one where I'm a captain of an ocean liner.

And it sinks.

And I'm flopping around the ocean all by myself.

Well, what's the need about that?

The ocean's all butterscotch.

I'll show you that.

Bob, don't you understand?

This book on dreams was written
by a college professor, a Ph.D.

, a doctor of philosophy.

And this book was written by a
non-as to gosh, genuine gypsy lady.

The title of this book is Dream Symbolism,
A Message from the Subconscious.

And the title of this book is My Daily Dream
Book, 400 Dreams That Shouldn't Go to Waste.

By Dr. Albert Price Brackett.

By Gypsy Rose Gromowski.

Bub, this man spent 26 years at Oxford.

And this dame spent 26 weeks at the Roxy,
standing room only.

And they tell me she could read the bumps
on your head like a morning paper.

Bumps on your head.

Now, where do you think you're going?

I think I'm going to school.

All right, now, Bub, I want to keep an open mind.

So, uh, I remember a dream that I had a while back.

Let me see if you can tell me what it means.

I don't know if I should waste my time on an unbeliever.

I, uh, I dreamed it was a beautiful day,
and the sun was bright as gold,

and there was snow all over the ground as far as
you could see, and the, uh, the air was filled with music.

Man, how come I always dream about real
glamorous stuff like algebra?

Sun means a woman.

Hey, algebra is figures, and girls are
figures, so maybe there's some...

Bright sun means a tall woman.

Now, here's snow.

That means cotton.

Tall cotton lady.

Uh, maybe it'll be a big nurse.

Now, uh, tall cotton lady, that,
uh, that makes a lot of sense.

What about the music, Bub?

Music is always ears.

Ears.

That's it?

That's it.

But, Bub, it doesn't make much sense.

It'll make sense when the time comes.

Hmm.

Tall lady, cotton ears.

Tall cotton lady ears.

Cotton lady, tall ears.

Maybe you're gonna meet a big female rabbit, Mike.

Yeah, well, I'll have the lettuce ready.

Bub, let me tell you what my dream meant.

Go ahead.

When I had that dream, it was right after
the big snowstorm.

So it was sunny out, and yet there was still snow all over.

As for the music, I left the radio on that night.

Now, you see, it was all in my subconscious,
and it just came out in the form of a dream.

No magic, no hocus pocus, just plain old
ordinary common sense.

Yeah, well, I still see it's tall lady Cotton Ears,
so don't come crying to me when it happens.

Oh, wouldn't it be something if that was her?

Yeah, Miss Cotton Ears?

Why not?

Well, answer it, or are you afraid the book might be right?

Yeah.

Forgot my lunch.

What'd I do?

Oh, nothing.

We just thought there might be a rabbit or
something at the door.

Right, Bub?

A rabbit that could reach the doorbell had
to be pretty tall.

Well, we thought it was a tall rabbit.

A tall lady rabbit.

Uh-huh.

So long, Bub.

If you take a nap today, happy dreams.

And to think I'd help teach him how to talk.

Uh-huh.

And you too.

And had a dream where he was running away.

Now, running away usually is symbolic of fear, isn't it?

In a sense, yes.

Well, if this man dreamed he was being
chased by a man with a long white beard

carrying a trumpet, couldn't that mean
that he was afraid of father time?

Afraid of getting old?

One might say so, yes, if one knew more about the dreamer.

Oh, but I do.

I know all about him.

Then you agree I'm right.

He's rebelling against getting on in years.

Look, Mike, you've been in my classes long enough to
know we don't jump to conclusions on so little evidence.

Now, take my advice.

Don't go off the deep end about your
friend and his old man with a trumpet.

But I might be right.

Anything is possible.

I still think Dad's got it in his head
that he's getting old.

But, Mike, he's supposed to be old.

He's a dad.

It's not like this.

Haven't you noticed the way he comes home
and he puts his slippers on and he lights his pipe?

Yeah.

Well, I thought I'd try and ease him into my group.

You know, make him feel he belongs.

You mean you're going to get him to join your fraternity?

Of course not.

But maybe a few social functions.

You know, if we fake it a little.

Yeah.

Hi, Dad.

Hi, Mr. Douglas.

Hi, Mr. Douglas.

How about a little game of basketball?

Basketball?

Yeah, how about it?

Well, thanks very much, fellas.

Not right now.

Oh, come on, Dad.

There's only three of us.

We need another man.

You know, two on the side.

Well, look, fellas, I haven't played basketball in...

Why don't you find Robbie, hmm?

Oh, he's too young, Mr. Douglas.

We want somebody closer to our own age.

Well, I would say Robbie's a little closer
to your age than I am.

Well, we can outmaneuver Robbie, Dad.

We need you.

Yeah, come on.

Yeah, come on, Mr. Douglas.

Well, might be fun at best.

Well, sure it will.

And later on, we'll drop in on one of the girls.

Mike, what is this?

Well, nothing.

You're a young guy, Dad.

You should keep in touch.

Oh.

Well, it's okay for the basketball,
but count me out on that later on stuff.

I'll go get some tennis shoes on.

I'm in.

I lose, I get your father.

Okay, you guys understand.

Oh, sure.

We take a break every five minutes so he
can catch his breath.

Man, no rough stuff.

That whole generation is all butterfingers.

Their reflexes are shot.

And somehow we gotta figure out a way
to let him make a couple of buckets, huh?

I'm playing, Arch.

Easy, Dad.

I'm playing out.

Over here, Mr. All right, over here.

All right, George, fans, we're on the
closing minutes of the game.

Steve the Stilt is running them ragged.

Arch passes the ball to Steve the Stilt.

Steve to Arch.

Arch back to Steve.

Steve makes a shot.

He's got Mike out of position.

Steve the Stilt from 12 feet out.



And it's good.

Come on, Mr. Let's go.

Come on, Arch.

Steve the Stilt guarded by Mike.



From the basket.

Gets around my character.

Two-amp push-up.

And good!

Arch to Steve.

Steve fakes Mike out again.

Don't get winded, Dad.

Take it easy, Dad.

Two-amp push-up.

Good!

Steve DeSille Douglas scores again!

Why don't he play with somebody his own size?

Next thing I know, he'll be rolling a hook.

Yes, sir, fans.

This has been one of the most
exciting expeditions of heads-up

basketball I've ever played here in Madison Square Garden.

Forty-two to ten.

Uh-oh, game's over, folks.

This is Chip Douglas signing off.

Boy, Dan, you are great.

Thirty points.

It was a team effort, Chipper.

You won't be able to get out of bed in the morning.

Dad, uh, you, uh, feel all right?

Oh, you know, I thought I might be a
little out of shape, but I feel great.

Just great.

Glass of water, Mr. Douglas?

Oh, no, thanks, Arch.

Hey, Gabe, I'm sorry if we were a little
rough on you out there.

Oh, it was fun, Bert.

Hey, how come Dad's the only one that's not out of breath?

Mr. Douglas, just how long are your arms anyway?

Well, you know, Bert, I haven't measured them lately.

Well, I'd better go and clean up.

Here, take the ball.

Oh, well, how long do you think it'll take
you to get ready, Dad?

Ready for what, Mike?

Well, didn't we tell you?

We're all going over to Polly Burke's house.

She's a swell girl.

Oh, thanks, Mike, but, well, it's very
nice of you to ask me, but no.

You'd be doing us a favor, Dad, wouldn't you guys?

Yeah, that's right, Mr. Douglas.

Tell me something, Mike.

Why?

Uh, why what?

Well, why am I suddenly a member of the Klan?

I can understand the basketball,
but, uh, I'm sure there haven't been too

many times in the history of family relations when a
son has asked his father to go to one of his parties.

Well, we need you, uh, to play a couple of tunes.

Yeah, Polly's eight for trumpet.

Saxophone.

Saxophone.

It just won't be a party unless you bring your sax, Dad.

It wouldn't be a party at all, Mr. Douglas, that's right.

Well, I'm very flattered, fellas,
but I know how I would have felt when I

was your age if somebody's father had
showed up at one of our parties carrying a

saxophone and a head full of out-of-date tunes.

So, uh, thanks anyway, and thanks for the game.

Well, we tried.

Yeah.

And frankly, Douglas, I'm relieved.

I wouldn't want to put Polly through a thing
like your dad playing Dardanella or something.

She's got a delicate nerve, Ed.

Well, Dad's still going to our party.

Only he won't have to leave the house.

How's that?

You want to run over that again lightly?

We'll have the party here.

Oh, come on, Mike.

No, you're straining our friendship.

I don't know what it is, but by eavesdropping here and
there, I get the idea you're trying to do your dad a favor.

You notice a change in him already?

No, but I notice a change in you.

You look about 20 years older.

This is Polly.

Oh, student nurse.

She's a friend of Bert's.

Maybe she's the lady you dreamed about
with the cotton ears.

Cotton ears?

Oh, Bub has a hocus pocus book he bought from a leprechaun.

And he also has a smart aleck grandson
that's going to get hit in the head with

that hocus pocus book he bought from a leprechaun.

All right, I'm sorry, Bub.

It's just that we're trying to get Dad back
on the track of thinking he's young again.

Well, it looked to me like he thought he was
young enough to beat your head off playing basketball.

Well, is it all right if we have a party
here tonight for him?

Oh, I guess so.

Well, look, every once in a while, Dad will take his sax
out and play to the hi-fi, so we have no problem there.

Bert, do you think you can get Polly to ask him to play?

He couldn't very well refuse a girl.

Sure, I can even get her to pretend she likes it.

Oh,

Mr. Douglas, you reached me.

Oh, yeah.

That sound, it's so knowing.

Well, thank you.

You've lived.

Yes, I've been around a while.

I think I should have spent a little more
of my time practicing.

Hey, we better stop him before he destroys us.

Mr. Douglas, would you say I was mature?

Well, of course, maturity is a relative thing.

Oh, I know.

The medical profession matures a woman.

But I'm only 22.



Oh, yeah.

Uh-huh.

Would you play something else?

Dreamy?

There he goes again.

Uh, could I help you?

What's that?

I said, could I help you?

I'm visiting next door, and my room's right
there, and I've been trying to get some sleep.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I, uh... I guess it is a little late.

It's my fault, ma'am.

I asked my father to play as a favor to us.

What'd you say?

I, uh... I guess I got a little carried away.

Again, please.

No more saxophone.

I beg your pardon.

I tried to sleep with cotton in my ears.

You mean you could hear me through the cotton?

Well, not exactly, but I'm very good with vibrations.

Oh.

Well, I'm sorry we kept you awake.

We'll be more quiet.

Okay.

Good night.

Well, Mike, what did you give me for the book now?

Oh, my gosh.

What's the matter, Mike?

Paul, lady.

The cotton.

I.

Caught up with you.

Hi, Larry.

Larry, this is my son, Mike.

Mike, this is Larry Travis, one of our
engineers and amateur musicians.

Hi.

Well, how do you do?

We're rehearsing down the hall.

Why don't you sit in with us, Steve?

I'm sorry.

I'm afraid it's a lost cause.

Right.

I'll check with you tomorrow.

So long, Mike.

Bye.

Dad, the bearded man in the white carrying a trumpet.

What?

Oh, that's who you were dreaming about.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I guess he's the one.

He chases me awake or asleep.

I just wish I knew how to convince him I
don't want to join his combo.

Don't ask.

Oh, it's just an academic question, Mike.

I didn't expect you to come up with an answer.

Dad, tell me something.

How do you really feel about being your age?

Well, Mike, you won't believe this, but most people my age

wouldn't go back to being your
age for anything in the world.

There are too many uncertainties, too
many heartaches, too little confidence.

Boy, you can say that again.

But thanks for trying anyway, Mike.

You knew?

I tried the same thing on my dad.

I can remember his face when he turned up
being the only grown-up in one of our weenie rows.

He must have been all of 35.

Stay tuned for another episode of My Three Sons as
this twice as nice morning continues here on TV Land.