ten random beliefs
I used to think that if I held my breath, closed my eyes, plugged my ears with my hands, and remained completly still, that time all around me would stop... Stop laughing, it could have worked.
when i was younger my aunts nose job went wrong so her nose came out long and pointy. For a long time i thought that she was a witch.
Ah, the stories I could tell on my superstitions..
But one of my personal favourite beliefs as a kid had to be my fears of ghosts. They literally haunted my childhood.
This is a little long..
I was one of those kids with an overactive imagination and a love of horror films, which quickly proved a bad combination. I was hooked on the films during the day and terrified once the lights went out.
All of this resulted in the eventual belief forming that if I did not have every part of my body covered by the duvet, a ghost could grab me and "drag me away." I was never clear on where I would be dragged; just certain I would be pulled from the safety of my bed into some place of unknown horrors.
"The duvet rule" as I referred to it, was not only necessary when I was in bed. It was also vital if I got up in the night to use the bathroom or get a drink.
So, imagine the fun as, my head covered by a duvet, and my hands clutching the sheets around me, I shuffled down the landing, feeling my way to the bathroom each night. It made quite a sight for my parents, should they wake up.
Also, I was firmly convinced that a ghost lived under my bed. Don't ask me how. But I was convinced an evil spirit waited there for me and it was only a matter of time before we met up. To prevent this, I went to the extremes of keeping a hammer beside my bed.
This belief died a death the night when, my dear older brother, who knew of every one of these fears, decided to hide under my bed after everyone was asleep, for his idea of a joke. He waited there, shook the bed slightly until I woke up, and then slid his hand up and grabbed my ankle.
I was prepared for the moment. I let out a blood-curdling scream, reached out, grabbed my hammer, leant down to my ankle, and firmly battered the hand holding it.
My parents were not pleased with being woken up. I was not pleased with my brother's sense of humor. My brother was not pleased with entering casualty with three broken bones in his hand.
But one good thing came of it all. For some reason, the night completely erased my fear of ghosts. So I guess it wasn't all bad.
My brother, nursing three broken bones, may not have agreed.
I used to believe that we had Duracell batteries in our rib cages.
I once asked my mom when our batteries would run out. She admitted that she was unable to answer the question.
I used to believe that fruits were actually a hybrid of the flower of the fruit tree and of the bees/wasps that pollinated them.
I believed this because I asked my dad, an avid gardener, how grapefruit grew on our tree. Right when I asked, a bee landed inside one of the flowers. My dad pointed out the bee and told me that the bee enters the flower, which causes the grapefruit to grow, but he left out the part about the bee leaving the flower. So being an imaginative 7-year old, I concluded that because the bee never left, that must mean that it became the fruit.
For years, before I bit into any fruit, I would say a little prayer for the bees that gave up their lives to become those yummy apples, pears, and oranges that I so enjoyed.
While making bread, I asked what a yeast was. My mother replied that it was a small gerbil-like creature found in the woods.
For 11 fruitless years I searched nature books for a picture of one...
I used to think it was the United STEAKS of America and that cows must be really important in the U.S.
I used to think that 'Nerds' candy (basically sugar coated in flavoring) would make your eyesight poor and you would have to wear glasses, and that was why they often call people with glasses nerds.
my grandpa always told me his big white moustache was 2 mice ! , and i believed him and one day when i was about 5 i caught him trimming it and i screamed ''THINK OF THE MICE!'' and ran away crying , and he had to calmy explain that he was giving them a little haircut !
when i was 3 or 4, my dog died and my dad told me but i didn't know what it meant. about a week later, my mom was dying her hair. till i was five i thought my dog was transfered to a higher class beauty salon in Australia.