Friday, August 13, 2004
This was me at the beginning of my madness.
Being the only child for the first four years of my life was interesting. I had (and still do) a very overactive imagination. Of course, I’m the second youngest of 5 kids, my dad has two daughters and a son from a previous marriage. They are all much older than me. I’m closest with my oldest sister, who is 48. My youngest sister is 39. So at least a 12 year difference. They all lived with their mom, and I was alone until my younger brother was born when I was 4 and a half.
I had a group of imaginary friends. I remember them so vividly it’s like they were almost real. I remember playing with them on my swing set and talking to them, pushing them on the swings, taking turns on the sliding board. They were a motorcycle gang. Of dogs. I’m not kidding. They were dogs wearing motorcycle leather, but they walked around on their hind legs. I don’t recall any of them having names except for the leader of the gang, my personal favorite, Bernice. Bernice lived under my bed, and sometimes hid in the kitchen cupboards. My mom would laugh at me when she was (pregant and in the kitchen) cooking and I would poke my little head under under the counter and call out, "Bernice! It's time to play!"
Another experience I remember from when I was little was hearing someone say my name when I was alone playing. I can remember sitting on the basement floor and hearing my name being called. It was a male voice that reminded me of my Uncle Steve. It was a voice that I recognized. Even though I knew it was just me and my mom in the house, it wasn’t scary, it was familiar. Being a fan of the supernatural, I have come to believe it was my uncle Larry, who died when I was an infant. Uncle Larry and his wife lived, literally, in my backyard in a trailer. The trailer caught on fire one night and burned. Thankfully, my aunt and uncle were not home. But shortly after, he had a massive heart attack and died. He was 40, I was one. Have you ever had those feelings of someone being around that you can’t see, but instead of feeling creeped out you feel comforted? It’s happened to me on more than one occasion.
On a side note, I also used to think that babies came out of your bellybutton, and that there was really a man in the moon (that scared the crap out of me). I also used to ask my mom the definition of the word "virgin" and I was never quite satisfied with her answer. Pure? C’mon, mom, I know it has something to do with sex.
Last night I had a dream that someone left nasty comments on here. It hurt my feelings and I cried. I’ve been blogging waaaaay too much.