And Jeannie Dreams of Me

Episode #70
Aired 1948-10-17
Length: 19:15
Size: 6.69 MB
Download MP3
Read Overview

CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.


CHAPPELL: Quiet, please.


ANNOUNCER: The American Broadcasting Company presents "Quiet, Please!" which
is written and directed by Wyllis Cooper, and which features Ernest Chappell.
"Quiet, Please!" for today is called "And Jeannie Dreams of Me."



TROY: There were always the trees.

The tall great oaks and the solemn cypresses.

The distant weeping willows and the holly trees beside the pathway, spreading
their sturdy arms, flaunting their green and red in the twilight.

And the tall columns of the house, gleaming whitely beyond the trees.

I remember the silence, too.

The dusky silence that lay always about the place, the silence that was always
there - when the dream began.

The silence that dissolved to the music as I hurried up the long, winding
pathway toward the tall, white house that waited for me.


TROY: For the earnest little boy in knickerbockers that I once was.

For the haggard, young soldier in muddy battle dress that was myself five
years ago.

For the unhappy, bewildered man I am today.

I had no remembrance of a time when the dream was not a part of my life.

And I know the trees and the path and the house better than I know the streets
of the city I lived in.

In all the years, they have not changed.

They've seen me change -- but they remain timeless and always the same.


TROY: Do you dream, friend?

I know a man who remembers a road from his dreams.

A pleasant country road that wends its dusty way past broad, smiling fields
and along the skirts of a lofty green forest.

A road that speaks to him of memories unremembered.

A road that promises and beckons on over the next hillside.

And wavers and fades and vanishes in the cold darkness as he opens his eyes.
Then comes again another night to soothe his spirit - so that he smiles in his
sleep and wakes to weep silent and alone for his lost dream.

Do you dream of long-forgotten friends? Of a hillside under the clouds? Of an
island in a sunlit sea?

Do you know the desperate longing to return to the dream-place? The hopeless
nostalgia for the world that lies beyond the curtain of sleep?

And do you ever return?

Listen to me, for perhaps we are kin.


TROY: I was ten, I think, that time I came into the front room where mother
was sitting at the piano. She turned when she heard me, smiled at me. And I
said, "Mother, I want to ask you a question."

BOY: May I ask you a question, Mother?

MOTHER: Why, of course you may, Troy.

BOY: Mother, I want to know about a music.

MOTHER: A music? A song, do you mean?

BOY: I guess it's a song.

MOTHER: What about it?

BOY: I want to know if you know the name of it.

MOTHER: Well, I don't know, son. Can you play it for me?

BOY: Well, I-- Well, it - it's kind o' like this.


BOY: Do you know what that is, Mother?

MOTHER: (amused) Of course. Is this it?


BOY: That's it! That's it! ... It's so pretty. What's the name of it, Mother?

MOTHER: That's called "Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair," dear.


BOY: Ohhh. I like it.

MOTHER: Where did you ever hear it? I don't think I ever played it. Where'd
you hear it?

BOY: In my dream.


BOY: I dream about it all the time.

MOTHER: But where did you first hear it?

BOY: In my dream, I told you.

MOTHER: What did you dream about, dear? Besides the music.

BOY: I dream the same dream all the time.

MOTHER: Tell mother about it.

BOY: Well, I - I walk up the pathway, past the trees ...


BOY: And, pretty soon, I hear the music. Then I go up to the house.

MOTHER: Our house?

BOY: No. It's a great, big, high house. And there's big high things that hold
up the porch. And it's white. And the trees are different.

MOTHER: How are they different?

BOY: I never saw that kind before. The - there's some trees that - that the
leaves and little red berries grow on. That - that we have for wreaths in the
window at Christmas.

MOTHER: Holly?

BOY: Yes! Yes, I guess that's what it is. Holly. And I - I go up to the big
door and I try to open it. But it's locked and I can't open it. And I HAVE to
open it, Mother.

MOTHER: Why, dear? Why do you have to open it?

BOY: Why, because I know there's somebody in there. There's somebody that
wants to see me.

MOTHER: Well, what makes you think that, Troy?

BOY: Well, I - I don't know, Mother. I just know it.

MOTHER: Who do you suppose it might be?

BOY: Well-- Well, maybe it's Jeannie, Mother.

MOTHER: That's very strange, Troy. You dream the same dream lots?

BOY: Every time I go to sleep, I think.

MOTHER: Don't you have any other dreams?

BOY: Oh, yes, but they're not much. This one I like, kind of. But I wish I
could open the door and find Jeannie.

MOTHER: Why, dear, I don't know what to--

BOY: What I was thinking, Mother -- could you maybe get me a key?

MOTHER: Why, son. You couldn't take a key into your dream with you.

BOY: I think I could if I had one.

MOTHER: I don't think so, dear. Really.

BOY: I think so.

MOTHER: What on Earth makes you think so?

BOY: Well, I brought this back from the dream.


MOTHER: Troy! Do you know what this is?!

BOY: Of course, Mother. It's holly. See? I scratched my finger when I broke it
off the tree.


TROY: Dr. Hogan said there was nothing wrong with me that fresh air in great
quantities and plenty of wholesome food would not remedy.

Then, for a time, the dream went away from me and I could not conjure up the
visions of the towering oaks and the rugged holly trees. Or the white house
and the long, winding graveled walk.

There were nights when I caught a tortured view of the white pillars and the
broad white steps. But hasten as I might, the picture faded before I could
gain the porch. And I fell away in the deep, black, dreamless sleep of

And always the haunting melody of Stephen Foster's song ...


TROY: ... filtered through my sleep.

But there was never any key to unlock the door, either.

And I resigned myself to an endless dream of frustration - in which I must
struggle endlessly to reach the one I loved.

And never find her.

For I knew Jeannie was there.

And I hoped.

And still the dream came and went -- I might sleep peacefully undisturbed for
a night, for two nights, a week. And then ...


TROY: I was a young man -- grown -- before I found the key.

It was a time when young men found out their world to be a troubled one. When
wars and rumors of wars weighed heavily on our youth. And I, with all the
young men, felt the inevitability of tragedy.

My mother, remembering the day a quarter of a century ago when my father went
away, fell ill, brooding on the bitter destiny that was to take her son from
her. And, nightly, I sat huddled in an easy chair beside her bed, keeping that
hopeless, ghostly watch over the stricken that we humans dote upon.

And, of a midnight, I fell asleep, uneasily. And, after a while, in the
darkness, I thought I heard my mother speak my name.

FEMALE VOICE: (whispers) Troy.

TROY: But I could not break the wretched bonds of fatigue. It seemed to me
that I was struggling through some horrid, hateful, dark swamp. The swamp
seemed to be alive with voices that spoke my name in the blackness.

Thus, perhaps, it was not my mother who spoke to me.

And then I heard my name again ...


TROY: ... clearer. I answered.

Not with my mother's name.

But with the name of my beloved whom I had never seen:



TROY: And, magically, the darkness dissolved.

And behind me were the trees of the park, the tall oaks with the mistletoe
clutching at their lofty branches, the distant weeping willow and the glossy
holly trees.

And I stood on the majestic porch of the white house before the great door.

And there was a key in the lock.

(uncertain) I do not think my hand trembled as I turned the key and opened the
great door that led beyond my dreams.

(enthralled) And she was there.

JEANNIE: You found the key at last, didn't you, Troy?

TROY: Jeannie?

JEANNIE: I've been dreaming of you so long, darling.

TROY: Jeannie.

JEANNIE: When I was a little girl and you were a little boy, I dreamed of you
in the old schoolhouse, the one with the red brick tower, the clock faces
painted on all four sides -- and the hands painted on, too, set at half past
eight. And there was another little girl, you brought her red cinnamon drops
from the drug store, remember? Her name was ... Ruth?

TROY: Ruth! Yes, I remember.

JEANNIE: And I was so jealous of her, Troy. That was the first time you
dreamed of this place. I knew you were here but you couldn't unlock the door.

TROY: You dreamed of me?

JEANNIE: I dreamed of you the time you brought the holly branch back to your
mother and learned my name from her.

TROY: And wanted her to give me the key.

JEANNIE: I know all about you, darling. I've watched you in my dreams, all
those years. Do you remember the camping trip? When was it? Three years ago?

TROY: Three years ago. I remember.

JEANNIE: When you stood on that little headland above the lake and watched the
sunrise all alone that morning? And what you said? And you thought there was
nobody to hear you?

TROY: I said, "I wish Jeannie could be here with me."

JEANNIE: And you said, "When will I ever see you, Jeannie?"

TROY: I remember.

JEANNIE: And I was there beside you, Troy, in my dreams. And now, at last,
you've found the key.

TROY: I've found YOU. Oh, Jeannie.

JEANNIE: Troy, my dearest.


TROY: But -- what will we do? This is a dream.

JEANNIE: Is it a dream, Troy? Or is it your other life that's a dream?

TROY: My other life?

JEANNIE: That's the dream to me. Oh, Troy, stay here with me.

TROY: But I can't. I know I can't.


TROY: I can't--

JEANNIE: We'd walk through the woods every day. I know places, secret places,
that we could have for our own. And - and there's the house that--

TROY: I want to stay more than anything else in the world, Jeannie. I've
dreamed of you for so long.

JEANNIE: And I've dreamed of you, Troy, remember.

TROY: But THIS is a dream, Jeannie. I'm asleep -- in a chair beside my mother.
(gravely) My mother's ill, Jeannie.


TROY: No. I'm afraid, Jeannie. I waited so long and--


TROY: But my mother--

JEANNIE: Your mother's dead, Troy!

TROY: (after a beat) What did you say?

JEANNIE: Your mother's dead. How else did you think you found the key,


TROY: And I was awake again.

In my mother's room.

And Jeannie had told me the truth.

While I dreamed, while I kissed Jeannie--

I stood up and something dropped from my lap to the floor.

The key.

A great, old-fashioned brass key that I'd last seen in the lock of the door of
the house where Jeannie lived.


TROY: The day my mother was buried, that was the day I was drafted.

It was perhaps as well. It kept me from brooding over her. All my personal
problems were swept aside in the swift enterprise of becoming a soldier.

No, I didn't dream of Jeannie for a long time.

And then, one night, during the maneuvers in Tennessee, in the bivouac on a
windy hill, I came wearily back to my sorry bed and, as I drifted off to
sleep, a sudden thought crept into my mind.

I wonder if Jeannie's dreaming of me now.


TROY: And, instantly, I was walking up the long, curving path to the old
house, still in my dirty fatigue clothes, carrying my rifle by the sling, the
heavy old key at the bottom of my haversack.

I unlocked the door and I called,


And the door was flung open.

JEANNIE: Troy! Oh, no! Go back!

TROY: Why? Jeannie--?

JEANNIE: No, no, don't kiss me! Go!

TROY: But what is it, Jeannie? I--

JEANNIE: Go, go, I tell you! Oh, quick, quick!

TROY: And she seized my arm and shook me.

And I awoke, back on a Tennessee hillside, just in time to roll frantically
out from under the tracks of the roaring tank that had come cresting blindly
through the woods and over the spot where I'd been asleep and dreaming a
moment before.



TROY: There was no more sleep, no more dreaming for me that night.

There was no more dreaming of Jeannie for a long, long time.

Jeannie dreamed of me.

I know she did, for she told me so again. That was when I was in North Africa.

That night, I fell asleep and I dreamed, first, I remember, of the old
schoolhouse with the painted clock, the little girl named Ruth, the one I used
to buy the cinnamon drops for.

And, in the dream, Ruth was angry at me for something I couldn't figure out
until she stamped her foot when I picked up her books to carry them home and
she cried out at me, "No! You let me alone! You go find Jeannie!"

And I was unlocking the great door again.


TROY: Jeannie!

JEANNIE: Oh, Troy, I've got great news for you.

TROY: It's so wonderful to see you.

JEANNIE: I've seen you every single day. I've worried about you -- getting so
thin, not having enough to eat and the fighting and everything. They were
horrible dreams, Troy.

TROY: I've hoped every night I'd dream of you.

JEANNIE: I wanted you to so badly. But I suppose I wasn't strong enough or

TROY: Is it - YOU that makes me dream of you, Jeannie?

JEANNIE: Yes, of course. And now you have the key.

TROY: (sadly, remembering his mother) Yes. Yes, I have the key.

JEANNIE: I'm sorry about that, Troy. But it's the only way. I can't help it.

TROY: I loved my mother.

JEANNIE: Yes, dearest, I know. But you wanted to find me.

TROY: Yes.

JEANNIE: (apprehensive) Do you love me?

TROY: (incredulous) Need you ask that?

JEANNIE: Oh, I wanted you to come back so badly.

TROY: What did you mean about not being strong enough?

JEANNIE: I couldn't make you dream of me until, somehow or other, you dreamed
of that little girl you were in love with when you were a child, that - that
little Ruth.

TROY: Yes, I remember. But - but what does that have to do with it?

JEANNIE: Why, I don't know exactly. You remember what happened to her?

TROY: Why, she died, if I remember.

JEANNIE: Yes, that's right. She died. About the time you started dreaming of


TROY: But I don't understand--

JEANNIE: That's all there is, Troy, darling. You're here now.

TROY: Yes.

JEANNIE: Kiss me and I'll tell you the wonderful news.

TROY: I've dreamed of this for so long.


JEANNIE: Oh, dearest. (exhales) Now, aren't you tired of the dreadful war?

TROY: I'm sick to death of it.

JEANNIE: I know. I've heard you say to that man with the red face-- what's his

TROY: Jack Cherry?

JEANNIE: I heard you say just last week that you'd give anything, do anything
if the war would just stop.

TROY: Yes, I did. I said more than that.

JEANNIE: I know you did. I heard you.

TROY: Jeannie, you can't imagine the stinking horror of it. The obscene,
debasing-- Oh, I'm sorry.

JEANNIE: Yes, I can imagine it, Troy. I know it very well. I've dreamed of it.
I know. The day when your captain was killed--

TROY: Yes.

JEANNIE: And you tried to pull him out of the [half trek?] --

TROY: I'd give anything to be out of it. But it's got to be done.

JEANNIE: You said you'd give a leg.

TROY: Yes -- that's what I said to Jack, wasn't it?


TROY: (sighs) I don't know. (tries changing the subject) Er, what's the good
news you have for me?

JEANNIE: You're going to stay this time.

TROY: Why, I can't.

JEANNIE: You've got both your legs here.

TROY: What do you--?

JEANNIE: Early tomorrow morning, there's going to be an air raid. A bomb is
going to fall on the building where you're asleep.

TROY: Jeannie!

JEANNIE: I know, Troy. You can't go back.

TROY: How do you--?

JEANNIE: You're going to stay here with me. And be happy with me forever,

TROY: But I can't.

JEANNIE: You won't wake up for months and months and months, maybe never.
Isn't that the most wonderful news?

TROY: Am I going to die?

JEANNIE: You're going to live!

TROY: But I've got to go back.

JEANNIE: You can't go back, Troy.

TROY: I can. I will. I - I can be awake and get the others out of that
building in time.

JEANNIE: They wouldn't believe you, darling.

TROY: Yes, they-- (pauses, realizing she's right)

JEANNIE: (quietly) Of course they wouldn't. And you don't want to die, do you?

TROY: Why do you say that?

JEANNIE: If you go back, you might die, dearest.

TROY: Jeannie, I--

JEANNIE: Stay here. Stay here with me and be happy and you'll never know
anything about it. No pain, no lying in the hospital for long, long months,
suffering, trying to dream of me and -- never finding me. Don't you see, Troy?

TROY: But I can't-- I can't believe--

JEANNIE: It was hard to believe the dream at first, wasn't it?

TROY: Well, but--

JEANNIE: Believe in me, Troy. I love you. I've loved you ever so long. And
I'll always love you.


JEANNIE: And ... I'll do anything to keep you, dearest.

TROY: I - I won't feel any pain? I won't lose my leg?

JEANNIE: Here? No, Troy. Here is only you and I. Jeannie and Troy. And - and
love everlasting.

TROY: But - I don't know whether I--

JEANNIE: There isn't anything you can do about it, Troy.


TROY: Four years.

Four long years of-- what shall I call it? There must be a word for that kind
of life.

If it is life.

Jeannie told me her dreams sometimes.

NURSE: The doctor said the patient hasn't regained consciousness. Not in all
the years.

TROY: And here, the great lawn was green and the scent of magnolias was
cloying, overpoweringly sweet.

NURSE: Doesn't recognize anyone.

TROY: And here, I looked into the clear blue eyes of Jeannie. Her light brown
hair was a magic spell to me.

NURSE: Sometimes he screams and then they give him morphine.

TROY: And here, there is no pain, no sorrow. Only the magnolias. Cloyingly
sweet. And Jeannie.

NURSE: The doctor said the patient talks sometimes in his sleep and he calls a

TROY: In my dream here, I call your name, Jeannie.

JEANNIE: And we shall live happily ever after.

TROY: But what if I--? What if I die in my sleep, Jeannie?

JEANNIE: Then, I'll die, too.

TROY: Will I go back there to die, Jeannie?

JEANNIE: Why must we speak of dying, dearest Troy? Tell me you love me.


TROY: And so the long days and the peaceful nights went by -- while in another
world men fought and murdered each other, had no thought of another world that
might be a world of dreams.

And, then, might not be.

For which is the real one?

I found myself, as the endless days and nights went by, wondering and secretly
wishing for the other world I had left behind for my dream of Jeannie.

I stood under the high pediment of the porch and watched a sun set in
magnificence beyond the rolling forest-clad hills. And I thought of another
sunset, a sunset at the end of a dusty, grubby city street with smoke griming
the tawdry buildings.

And I knew homesickness.

I thought of a sunset past a frozen lake in wintertime. And the long shadows
on the snow and the shouts of gay youngsters.

And, in my mind's eye, I saw a man standing, watching the skaters on the lake.
A man with stooped shoulders. A thin, beaten man.

With a crutch - instead of a right leg.

And my heart turned over within me.

I thought - I thought of the goodness of pain.

And the happy bitterness that other men might know.

And of work, harsh straining labor and the good tiredness that comes at

And again of a bed in a hospital somewhere and doctors puzzling over a man who
had slept for five years or more.

While I pleasured myself in a country of dreams.

And knew the love of Jeannie.


TROY: And, heartily, I wished myself away from this peace and contentment.

And ... love.

JEANNIE: I'll let you go, Troy. I'll let you go for just as long as you want
to stay. Take the key, Troy. Lock the door. Leave the key in the door so
you'll find it when you come back. Because you WILL come back, Troy. You think
you want the world again. But you won't. I've seen you, Troy, remember? In my
dreams. I can dream of you any time I want to. You leave the key in the door,
Troy. It'll be there when you're ready to come back -- to stay.


TROY: I awoke ... to intolerable pain.

But I couldn't help laughing at the faces of the doctors and the nurses who
crowded around. You'd think I'd risen from the dead.

And maybe I had.

But the pain!

And when I looked down at the bed I lay in--

Yes, my right leg. Just as I'd imagined.

And the doctors did things to me so the pain went away a little but it was
always there.

And I welcomed it! I suffered.

But I was my own man again.

And I did sleep -- but I don't remember sleeping.

I didn't dream.

Then, last week, they told me I was good enough to be transferred to another
hospital where a great specialist was to treat me and make me well.

And again my heart turned over within me for now I was to live!

And be my own man forever.


Yes, I thought of her.

(sadder, slower) Yes, I thought of her.

The first time I thought of her was when I got in the airplane. I'd never been
in an airplane before.

The second time I thought of her--

Well, I'll tell you the dream in the airplane.


TROY: The drone of the motors made me drowsy.


TROY: And there were the trees again.

And the tall white house and the winding path.

I walked reluctantly up to the door. The key was still there.

I opened the door and I called, "Jeannie?"

And it was a long minute in the darkening hallway before I discovered her,
sprawled across the bottom steps of the huge stairway, her eyes closed.

I hurried to her and took her in my arms.


TROY: Jeannie! What's happened? Jeannie, darling?

JEANNIE: (whispers, weakly) Troy.

TROY: Jeannie.

JEANNIE: Troy. Listen. Listen to me.

TROY: What is it, darling?

JEANNIE: I - I'm dying. Oh, Troy, kiss me.

TROY: Jeannie? Jeannie?

JEANNIE: No, no, don't. Listen. A door. Somebody named McClintock.

TROY: What do you mean, darling?

JEANNIE: Don't - don't go near the - the door. The man named McClintock. Never
see you again, Troy.

TROY: And the whole scene wavered before my eyes.

And there was a sound like thunder.


TROY: And I'm here, sitting in the front seat, on the right, in an airplane
full of people.

"What did she mean?" I thought.


TROY: And, as the lighted sign above the door flashed on, "Fasten seat belts,"
I glanced up at the other little signs on the wall in front of me: Stewardess
somebody - Second officer Harry somebody - Pilot ... William J. McClintock.

And the ship is moving strangely now, we're going down fast.

Must be coming in for a landing.

But the door--

That's where the pilots are, where McClintock is.

Smoke is coming out from under the door ...


ANNOUNCER: The title of today's "Quiet, Please!" story is "And Jeannie Dreams
of Me." It was written and directed by Wyllis Cooper, and the man who spoke to
you was Ernest Chappell.

CHAPPELL: And the mother was Anna Maude Morath. The voice of the little boy
was that of Sarah Fussell. Claudia Morgan played Jeannie. (warmly) Thank you
for being with us, Mrs. Chappell.

As usual, the music for "Quiet, Please!" is played by Albert Buhrmann. Now,
for a word about next week, here is our writer-director, Wyllis Cooper.

COOPER: Thank you for listening to "Quiet, Please!" My story for you next week
is called "The Good Ghost."

CHAPPELL: And so until next week at this same time, I am quietly yours, Ernest


ANNOUNCER: And now, a listening reminder. Another dramatic tilt between law
enforcement agencies and the forces of crime are waiting for you on "David
Harding, Counterspy" this afternoon. This is ABC, the American Broadcasting


LOCAL ANNOUNCER: WJZ -- New York! Inside news and startling exclusives --
that's what makes Drew Pearson one of the most famous reporters in America.
So, don't miss Pearson at six tonight! ... Now, "David Harding, Counterspy"!