in the streetShow most recent or highest rated first.
I believed that poor people lived in the little "glass house" skylights that used to be on the roofs of apartment buildings in Chicago. We were on the elevated train and my grandmother pointed at the buildings and said "poor people live there" and I thought she meant the little glass enclosures. I thought that was a lousy deal, no privacy.
I used to think that when a business put "Support EMS" up on their sign, that it wasn't a message intended to support the local Emergency Medical Service, but that the business needed help, thus they were asking for "Support 'ems" (like support them). I believed this until I worked up the courage to ask my mother. Needless to say she set me straight. To this day every time I see one of those signs I feel embarrassed...
Years ago in the early 70's I believe Ronald McDonald was at every McDonald's in America. I convinced my little brother and sister of this. We went to our very first McDonalds and of course no Ronald. They cried the whole time. I was older but I wanted to cry too.
My mom never thought twice about expanding on my already vivid imagination. One particular story I'll never forget was one that involved little men who lived in lamp posts, a bit like lighthouse keepers. They controlled the street lamps and on darker days, they were always "around" to protect me on my way home from a friend's house. Their little doors, regardless of the advances in technology, can still be seen on the side of lamp posts.
one night, when i was 4 or 5, i heard sirens and went to my dad to ask what they were, i thought he said "they're simon" so for a while after that everytime i heard sirens, i'd think "there's simon, he's kinda scary"
I thought all the streets of every city connected to each other. So if you started on Main St in New York, for example, you could keep walking through to Main St Chicago, Main St Denver, and Main St Los Angeles.
i used to believe anyone who didn't live in my neighborhood was rich.
When I was really young, I was always escaping the house into the yard or street or whereever. My mom had decided the best strategy was to instill fear into me by telling me that if I strayed too far, dogs and cats would attack and kill me, tearing my body to pieces. At the age of 2, I was pretty gullible. (I'm pretty gullible now, but not to this extent.) One day, I was at my cousin's place and we were going up a steep set of old stone steps in the backyard. I was in front and being much younger could not see the neighborhood's meanest cat ("Rusty") at the top of the steps who turned and hissed at me. I remember waking up in my aunt's place with my head supposedly split open. It would be another couple of years before my fear of dogs would go away.
I used to believe that I could find a route to ride my bike
to my friends house that was all down hill. Maybe this
was not so far fetched, but I also thought, if I tried really hard,
I could also find a route to coast downhill ALL THE WAY HOME!
When I was little my dad used to take my younger sister and I to the Rose Garden in Marquette Park in Chicago. We'd roll up our pants and jump into the fountains, collecting quarters that my dad pointed out which mysteriously seemed to keep appearing in whatever direction we were walking. We believed the people who ran the city of Chicago put them there for our benefit, because they knew our family needed the money. I remember once feeling incredibly charitable by offering my dad a couple of the quarters I'd found. It wasn't for years until I realized he'd been the one dropping them for us.
When I was 5 I believed that large birds would grab you with their talons and fly off like in the cartoons, so whenever I was outside and saw one I would grab onto something. I was somehow convinced that the birds were actually bigger than me.
I lived in a town where there were ditches at the side of every road. On the way to and from school, sometimes kids would fall into these ditches and get soaked. Cars would have accidents and crash into the ditches too. I used to believe that, before you became an adult, you would at least ONCE fall into the ditch. Some sort of rite of passage or something. And I truly dreaded when it would be 'my turn' to fall into the ditch.
I never did fall into the ditch. But in my dreams, 25 years later, I still have nightmares about death and ditches.
I beleived that if you saw an ambulance or a fire truck going really fast with the siren on, you could save the person who was in trouble by touching something red. I'm 24 now and I can't stop doing it (just in case)
when I was a kid, I used to hear the trash collecters come by in the middle of the night. The screech of the metal and crash of the recepticles on the concrete would always wake me up. I was convinced that dinosaurs must be pillaging through the neighborhood, and I was the only one awake to hear them.
Once when I was about 4 years old we drove past a Burger King restaurant, and I asked my dad what the "Home of the Whopper" sign meant. He told me it meant that they make the Whopper sandwiches at home. So until I got old enough to understand what "Home of the..." meant, I thought that the workers at Burger King made the Whoppers at home and brought them to work. My dad was such an ass.
I had a dream that I confused with real life that an umbrella could keep me aloft for a very long time while walking down the street (we're talking like twenty feet.) I'm pretty sure I tried while awake and just thought there wasn't enough wind.
When I was young I thought that VOTING was actually BOATING. One November I went with my mom to vote, and I was being bad during the ride over, so she threatened to leave me outside. "But Mom, who is going to watch and make sure I don't fall in!"
I use to think whenever we drove past property that had signs saying "commercial property", that was where commercials were made.
I used to believe that all English fire trucks all had their own individual names!
What made this even more special was that i was forever seeing the same one, embarressingly it wasn't untill my now husband pointed out that "DENNIS" was in fact the name of the company that made them!!!!!!<---CRINGE-------->
When the mosquito truck comes through our neighborhood, my son and I dash inside. We did this for several years before my son realized the truck was killing mosquitos -- not spitting them out at us.