When I was about 6 the TVA was in the process of building a dam and reservoir in the neighboring county. My Dad along with most of the local communities thought it was the most wonderful thing ever! He took me out there almost every weekend and tried to explain how there would be a brand new lake for fishing and boating. I couldn’t understand exactly where the lake would be. I thought it would be really neat to live in one of those houses down buy the dam. Then we wouldn’t have to drive so far to fish on the amazing new lake. When he told me the houses would be at the bottom of the lake, I freaked the hell out!
On the news, I heard about the people from that community being relocated, including the cemetery. But I was afraid that a baby or elderly person, or someone’s pet would get left behind.
I still get shivers when I hear the terms "man made lake.
The only thing that I have to share is my experience with the book “Helter Skelter”. My mother swears that I read this book, against her wishes, back when I was in seventh grade…11-12 years old. And that I was infatuated with all things Manson after I read it. I have absolutely NO memory of this whatsoever.
In my my mind, the first time I read it was when I was 19. I was married and reading it while in bed before falling asleep. I remember it was the very, very beginning of the book…where the maid discovers the Tate victims. I wasn’t particularly bothered but I fell asleep and when I woke up in the middle of the night I just KNEW that Manson was going to peek his head around my bedroom door. I was so frightened that I could not move. I couldn’t even reach over to my husband for help. I laid there forever just knowing what was to come. Finally, I was able to move and touch my husband and felt better.
I was also terrified, abjectly terrified of the wind when I was a kid. I was so afraid that there was going to be a tornado. I used to sit on my bed, with the blinds open, staring at the palm tree that was outside my window making bets with myself “Well, if it moves any further, I’m going to wake up Dad and Mom”, “It’s okay…it’s not bending that far”. Now…I love storms…go figure! P.S. I grew up in Arizona…tornadoes are not a common thing here!!
Cars with huge rust spots scared me as a child. I pictured that they were angry at how they were treated during the day and would go out at night in packs after bad car owners. I’m not sure where I got this idea from; possibly a dream.
Janitorial staff in department stores pushing those canvas-sided carts scared me. One of my siblings told me that if they could catch you, they would throw you in the cart, roll you into the back room and roast you alive in the furnace in the basement after the store closed.
And whatever was left? They’d make a mannequin out of, so you’d be stuck there on display for all eternity. Wearing a dress.
There used to be milk delivery services in my neighborhood when I was really young and they’d always drive these odd milk trucks. One of my siblings told me that if the baby died in the night, the delivery men would just shove it in a box and take it back with them out to the truck for disposal with the empties. I was told that it was bad luck to check the metal box by the door to see if it was “full”. :eek:
An old rerun of Lost In Space gave me recurring nightmares for Years: the villians all had black derbies and faces covered with black material that had been bejewelled. I used to wake up in the middle of the night thinking that they were rising up out of the dark corners of my room to get me.
I’ll never picture you bare-foot, squatting on the ground, holding your knees with one hand and stabbing the ground with a carving knife with the other while you wait ever again!
When I was around 4 or 5 years of age, my parents had this pink voice box from some type of stuffed doll that would laugh when you squeezed it. It was just the voice box of the thing and they called it, “The Haha Man.” It had the creepiest laugh I’ve ever heard. They used to screw with me by making the thing laugh because they thought it was funny. It used to give me such horrible nightmares as a child which lasted all the way until I was 10 or so.
Another one I just thought about. The Atlanta Child Murders.
We had just moved back to NC from Atlanta when I was 7 and this started happening. My best friend in Atlanta was a black guy named Michael. I was just SURE he’d been killed.
I kept begging my parents to let me call him, but they just told me to write another letter and back then, it’d be 2 weeks or so before I’d get a reply and during that time, I kept thinking “I’ll never hear from him again!”.
