Some friends of mine down at the Ballard Branch of Mountain Pacific Bank shared a great story, so I’m passing it along to you.
It seems there was this customer who lived nearby, who had a recurring dream.
Heck, we all dream, some remembering them better than others. I don’t remember much of the dreams I have at night. But after I’ve gotten up at the usual 4am and it’s been a long week, sometimes I grab a half-hour cat nap to recharge. It’s during those brief ventures into Snoozeville that I remember them the most.
Now, back to the Ballard man. He had a recurring dream that there was a jar of money buried in his backyard. He’d been having it for years. Apparently, there comes a point where one says, “What the heck?”. So, he talked a neighbor into helping and the two of them began digging. After quite a few holes with nothing but dirt, they heard a clink, like glass being hit by a shovel. Well, that’s because it was glass being hit by a shovel.
OK, so far, everything was happening according to the dream. The two carefully dug the jar out of the ground, lifted it up and inside: money. Bills that had not done well during their time in the earth, but there were quite a few of them.
The man took the rotted, decrepit money down to Mountain Pacific Bank and told his story to my friends, Ozzie and Cory. Their job was clear—work with the Federal Reserve and see if the money was still any good.
It was. The serial numbers were legible enough and the next thing you know, the guy received a check for the amount of the rotten bills—over $1,000! All because he listened to a dream.
Now, I have two choices: To dismiss the events as purely a matter of coincidence or to believe that one day, I will finally win the Powerball.
I’m going with number two. Better result and less shoveling.