Monday, January 24, 2011

The motorcycle is going to hit me!

(Necessary groundwork for what I want to write:

I've always seen things at night, made of tiny dots.  They're always in color.  The dots take the shape of different things, normally machinery.  The things made of the dots look real.  I can only barely see that they're made of dots.  If I were an artist, I would have drawn them long ago!

The most common thing I've see were trains.  One would often go in a circle, around through the air and down through my belly, round and round, over and over.  Other times they would be going above me,I could see the wheels turning fast, but they would not move an inch.

No, I didn't see these sleeping.  I would see these things when I was awake but only at night, in the dark.  At first they made me afraid, but after a few times, it simply became interesting. It has been about 33 years since I've seen anything made of these dots.  I was about 22 when I saw the last one.  I miss them and wonder why I no longer see them.  I have only talked to one person who has also seen things made of these tiny colored dots.

I don't know how young I was but I was in a crib.  Perhaps we had company and Mother and Daddy put me in their room, temporarily in a crib, while our guests were visiting.

I asked Mother about this event several years before she died and she didn't remember it.  I know exactly where the crib was - behind the door of their bedroom against the wall.  I don't remember the wall having enough room for my crib and I asked her if the closet had been built after I was born. She said yes, the closet that filled that space wasn't always there.  All the questions I asked fit my memory except that she didn't keep the crib there.  As we talked about times when we had visitors, we both realized that the event I was talking about had to be when the house was full, probably at convention time, when the house was stuffed with guests.)

I see the event clearly to this day.  I see it as if I am still there in the crib, not from the angle of someone looking on.  I remember desperately  trying to climb out of one corner of the crib, screaming.  "The motorcycle is going to get me, the motorcycle is going to get me".  (I was old enough to be able to tell then that "the motorcycle is going to get me".)  Mother and Daddy came to the crib.  I was screaming and the crib had to be rattling, as frantic as I was to get out.  They asked me what was wrong.  I repeated it over and over. They asked me where it was. I pointed to the motorcycle, about two feet away, about 8 inches above the crib rail in the air.  I know they must have thought I was dreaming.  What else could they think?  I could see the wheels turning and the dust flying.  It was later that I realized that it never did get closer to me.  It was suspended in the air, going super fast, straight at me, but never came closer.


They assured me over and over that there wasn't a motorcycle. They assured me that nothing was wrong.  That sure didn't help.  I could see it clearly. And it was STILL coming at me and they weren't helping me!


I remember my panic, my fear, my frustration that they would not help me.  My memory of the event stopped there.  I was old enough to be able to tell then that "the motorcycle is going to get me", however old that was.


I am sure they took me out of the crib quickly although at that time, it sure didn't seem quick.  As real as the motorcycle was, I sure wasn't going to settle down again.  

I had to be much older than in this photo.  This is way too young to be able to say, "the motorcycle is going to get me".



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