I've always had an overactive imagination. Especially as a kid. There used to be one of those "tree" lamps in my room as a kid. You know the kind. Long thin aluminum pole with three round lamp heads attached on alternating sides. Well, as a kid I hated going to bed for more than just the normal kid reasons. I was convinced that the lamp was out to get me. I swear the thing moved closer to my bed as soon as the lights went out. Eventually it had to be taken out of my room because I developed a mild case of insomnia. Maybe that also explains my later sleepwalking problems, although it doesn't explain why I'd always wake up in the kitchen with half a glass of orange juice.

I also hated flushing the toilets because I was convinced the noises in the pipes were ghosts on a hungry rampage, and they only ate chubby blond little girls. So my grandmother eventually learned she shouldn't be in the hallway after the toilet flushed, since I would go tearing out of the bathroom as soon as my fingers left the lever; trying to get to the other end of the house as fast as possible.

Axe murderers were always waiting in the bathroom, after a recent slumber party viewing of Psycho. The balloons on the ceiling were alien eggs, after a slumber party viewing of Alien. Why do they call them slumber parties anyway? And why was there always a scary movie? The balloons came loose of their tape at three in the morning, floating quietly down to land on 6 little girls in their "My Little Pony" and "CareBear" sleeping bags, maybe somebody had "Rainbow Brite" (the rebel). Imagine the screams, the chaos, the grumpy parents, the reason Emily wasn't allowed to have us over again for a good while.

I think I've managed to outgrow most it, except for those rare occasions when I freak myself out. Every once in awhile, there's still an axe murderer waiting in the bathroom, the house has managed to burn itself down in the hour I've gone to the store, or the lamp in the basement is an inch closer isn't it?