Wednesday, February 17, 2010
So, when I was a child--or to put it in the boy's vernacular, a littleun--I was quite afeared of being kidnapped. I had this reoccurring dream where men in masks broke into the house and swept me up in a black canvas bag, threw me over a shoulder, and ran out of the house. I can still vividly picture the flashing lights from the police cars arriving just a moment too late. Once I was sucessfully out of the house, the faceless men would hold me in a dungeon while waiting for the ransom money. While I don't quite know now why these men didn't attempt to rob us in the first place, the event seemed perfectly plausible at the time. So instead of questioning rationale, I would lie under my covers at night and try to make myself as thin as possible so the crazies wouldn't be able to see the form of a person and just go away thinking the bed was empty.