When Gerald R. Ford Shows Up in My Dreams (and Brings Idioms Along)

Jean’s dreams are the ultimate mash‑up artists. They splice together antique booths, travel trailers, and idioms like “cloud nine” or “pissing contest,” then they hand Jean the footage at 8 a.m. with a note that says: “Good luck making sense of this.” What follows is her attempt to decode the subconscious circus — with a little help from etymology, memory, and one very insistent dream‑dog. AI….

I’ve always been intrigued by my night‑time dreams. Some are so “out there in left field” they’re impossible to figure out. (I’ve used that idiom all my life and only realized recently that it's a baseball reference!) Some dreams are easy to trace back to their source, while others are—well, as I started to say before I interrupted myself—truly “out there in left field.” 

This morning I woke from a dream that was “as easy as pie” to interpret: I was in a vintage travel trailer with a shirtless stranger, tying ribbon bows onto merchandise for a vendor booth in an antiques and collectibles mall. The ribbon was the kind with wire running along the edges, and the trailer itself was a 1950s model with a desk inside instead of a bed. A collie I had when I was a kid was with us, too, whining at the door, and when we let her out she left a huge, yellow puddle in the mud.

And here we go again with idioms: “as easy as pie” first appeared in Zane Grey’s 1910 novel The Young Forester, though a variation—“as nice as pie”—was documented as early as 1855. I’ve always found it fascinating how certain phrases catch on and stick around for centuries, serving as a kind of lazy shorthand for self‑expression. Probably because it's easier to say “as easy as pie” or “out there in left field” than to come up with something original so it makes sense.

Back on topic: the day before my travel‑trailer dream, I attended a lecture here at my CCC about Gerald R. Ford. I went in feeling pretty cranky—so much so that I almost skipped it—but when it was over I walked out “on cloud nine." Sitting in that lecture I kept wishing I had a paper and pen with me to take notes because the speaker was so inspiring. And yes, I’m going to tell you about the origins of the “cloud nine” idiom. It comes from the U.S. Weather Bureau’s cloud classification system, where the highest, most majestic cloud is #9. The phrase entered everyday language in the 1950s when movie star Betty Hutton said she was “hovering on cloud nine” after landing a major film role.

The trailer in my dream resembled the one Gerald R. Ford used as his “traveling office” in the 1950s, back when he was a congressman in Michigan's 5th District. During the Q&A, I asked the speaker—the director of the Ford Foundation—if they still had that trailer. I then shared how Ford would park it near my home, and my dad would take me (age 10 or 11) along to talk with the congressman. Constituents like my dad lined up at the camper door, waiting their turn to enter Ford’s customized office with its plywood paneling. My dad, a union representative, would discuss worker concerns while Ford listened and took notes. A mobile office that was moved every day was novel in those days, and I suspect Ford’s accessibility contributed to his longevity as a congressman. He served as our representative for twenty‑five years. After the lecture, four or five people told me they enjoyed my story or were glad I shared it. The word “sweet” came up more than once. 

The antique‑booth in my dream came from an email I’d received from a friend in my old neighborhood. She still runs a booth in a mall, which brought back memories of when Don and I were vendors too. I miss having that 'booth owner' label as part of my identity. I should write a post about all the labels we lose and find as we age.

The ribbon with the wire in it came from one of my fellow residents, who was having a hissy‑fit over how many bows she had to make for our annual “Decorate for Christmas” event here at the CCC. She worried she couldn’t finish before going to the hospital for a medical procedure. She’s one of the reasons I don’t participate in that event. The first year, I actually planned to help. It’s a big place, requiring many hands to put up the Christmas tree, decorate the fireplace mantle, swap out a row of two dozen green plants for poinsettias, and hang wreaths, garlands and bows throughout the public areas. But that first year, she and an ex‑florist and two other women were locked in a “pissing contest” over creative control. It was clear there were too many chiefs and not enough Indians and with my twenty year history in the floral industry, I knew I wouldn’t have the patience to work that way. Watching those four people debating where to hang a single ornament on the tree was my breaking point. I left and have avoided the event every year since.

And if you think I’m going to let the “pissing contest” idiom slide without background, you’d be wrong. It’s been used metaphorically since the 1940s, originating from boys literally competing to see who could urinate the farthest. Over time, it came to mean any pointless rivalry or public dispute. But here’s a curious fact I uncovered while researching: in 17th‑century Irish and Belgian literature, there’s a story about women competing to see how deep in the snow they could urinate. Now, aren’t you glad you stuck with me until the very end to learn that utterly useless tidbit?

By the way, that dog whining to go out was simply my unconscious self telling me it was time to get up and use the bathroom. Oh, and the shirtless stranger was Dayan Kolev, the "gone vital" jump rope guy from Bulgaria. With him in the trailer with me is it any wonder it took me so long to wake up when nature called? 

One last parting thought: the term "gone vital" has not yet been established as an English idiom. It takes ten years for something like that to stick around before it's consisted to be dictionary worthy. ©