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I used to think that when you died you got to ask one, and only one question to god about anything in the world that only god would know.
I spent sleepless nights trying to decide between asking "Where did amelia airheart go?" and "so, you know that ship that emerged from the bermuda triangle without any people in it? what happened?"
When I was a child I thought your "soul" was your buttocks; because nobody could quite explain to me what a soul was. So when my mom told me when someone dies their soul goes to heaven; I was always picturing all these buttocks soaring up into the sky.
Due to a misunderstanding about death and resurrection at Sunday school, I thought that you had to die twice for it to be 'final'. I remember watching Winston Churchill's funeral on TV and everyone being rather surprised when I asked why everyone was upset because he was coming back again afterwards.
When I was about four I thought that if you could lift up the hem of an angel's dress you would find he was made of tightly packed dryer lint.
From a young age I believed in reincarnation, however I didn't fully understand the concept, as I was frightened I would come back as a gas fire
Aged 5, my little sister asked if you go to French heaven if you die in France. I told her I wasn't sure. She replied "Well I don't think we should die on holiday just in case. I can't speak very good French".
When I was younger, I asked my mom what heaven was like. She told me it was basically like a big ballroom, where you spent forever dancing and singing. I never liked to dance, or sing, so I thought it sounded really boring.
when i was like 7 i thought that heaven was a really big hotel where everyone had their own room, and depending on how good a person was during their life, determined how nice of a room they got. i was always afraid that god would run out of rooms and i wouldn't get one
I thought Heaven was some kind of trailer park in the desert near Las Vegas that people moved to when they got old.
I used to wonder why we all wanted to go to heaven to just play a harp. That sounded boring. But, I wasn't supposed to like Hell either.
When I was young, I was raised in a Christian household. My aunt died when I was nine years old. Later that year my family was sitting around talking about heaven and how one day they would be there and be reunited with my aunt. I told them that I didn't understand how they could find her since everyone in heaven had their own cloud that they sat on when they played their harps. They all got a pretty funny laugh at that one.
When I was around 6 years old I had first heard about a limbo (a hell). Well, I thought it was a place where you would play "LIMBO" all day and all night! I thought "oh...the back pain!". So I thought that when a parent's back hurt they were getting ready for limbo. I was horrified when my dad's back started hurting!
When I was very little (3 or 4) the family dog was injured in a fight and had to be put down. As we were driving to the vet, I asked my parents "Where is Duffer going?" Mom said "Heaven." At that moment we were driving past a big brown brick building, so I assumed that heaven was inside that building. It didn't look like much...
If you were good and went to Heaven you would get all your broke and lost toys back fixed and shiney, but if you were bad and went to hell, you would get all your poops and pee back.
I used to believe that when people died, their body literally floated up to heaven. I wondered for the longest time why I never saw dead people in the sky.
I used to believe that God and the Devil were actually on the same team, so if you were bad you went to Hell and were punished by the Devil. Then when he decided you had learned your lesson he would send you to God and to heaven. Then if you acted badly in heaven, God would send you back to Hell. I guess I never got that "eternal damnation" thing... I just figured it was more like "good cop, bad cop".
When I was little I knew that heaven was the place you went to when you died. So as we were passing a cemetery I said to my mom "look mom, it's heaven."
I used to believe that when you died Jesus would come by in a helicopter, drop his rope ladder for you to climb up on and take you back to heaven with him.
When I was a kid my dad had an abstract picture. My brothers said that if you saw Jesus in it you were going to heaven and if you didn't you were going to hell. A lot of my friends saw Jesus in this picture, but I never did. When my Uncle (who drove the school bus) saw this abstarct piece of art he said "Where'd ya' get the picture of Jesus?" I knew then and there I was hell-bound.
My pediatrician's nurse introduced herself as "Candy," the same name as my aunt's pet who had died. So, wide-eyed, I asked her, "did you used to be a DOG?" She didn't answer, just stuck me with a syringe, so I cried and tried to hide anytime I saw her after that, never knowing if she was, in fact, my aunt's old dog!