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As a young child, whenever I asked my mother what day it was, she would say, "Its tuesday, all day". I therefore assumed that certain days must change partway through the day.
well, to understand that u might have to know some greek but i ll explain anyway: in greek there are two words: "ura" meaning tail and "ora" meaning hour. so a friend'mum used to tell her that she would sleep for an hour (ora) but she thought she heard ura (tail)!! she grew up believing that time is counted in tails (ura)!!!
My parents listened to alot of Beatles music when I was little. When I heard the song "Eight Days a Week" I figured that in England there must be eight days to the week. I spent alot of time wondering what the eighth day was called, and trying to figure out why they got an extra day.
Up until a few years ago I used to try to go back in time - Normally when my family went on holiday. When we arrived at the hotel or wherever, I would stand still outside trying to remember everything about that moment, the sounds, the smells, everything. At the end of the holiday I would then stand in exactly the same place and imagine I had just arrived, desperately trying to make myself believe that I had gone back in time to the start of the holiday. How pitiful.
When i was three or four, i had a friend called Lucy that lived round the corner from me. on the way back from Playgroup, as her parents had taken her home and mine had me, i remember driving past their house and wondering what she was doing now. Thinking it would be far too complex for her to be existsing where i couldn't see her, i convinced myself that once Lucy wasn't with me, time stopped for her. she was in her house, but was doing nothing but standing still. i could go on living and would carry on as normal, but the rest of the world, pah! Talk about egocentric!
I used to believe that my entire life was a dream and I would wake up as a baby in another, completely different life.
I still sometimes wonder when I'm going to wake up, this dream has being going on for a good few years!!!
I used to think that there were three 12 o' clocks in every day: one at midnight, one mid-morning, and one in the middle of the day. I know not why.
If I asked an adult what time it was, they would always know. I figured that this was something you knew after a certain age, it didn't matter if you had a watch or not.
I remember sobbing on New Year's Eve, 1968.
I just couldn't imagine it not being 1968 any more. It was the first time that it really sank in that once a time has come and gone, it's never coming back.
I've been grappling with that concept ever since.
I used to think that days of the week had colors. Whenever I would hear someone mention a day, I would envision a color. There was a vague sense of shape that went along with each color as well. Sunday was beige and shaped like a pair of eyeglasses. Monday was burnt orange and looked like a cardbord cylinder. Tuesday was translucent yellow -- I don't really remember what shape. Wednesday was a deep red or burgundy. Thursday was a translucent dark blue. Friday was black and had a bumpy texture sort of like the teeth of a comb. Saturday was a translucent teal and shaped like one of the U.S. states, maybe South Carolina or Tennessee. I have no idea what the origin of any of this synethesia was -- probably just the efforts of my developing mind as it struggled to understand such an abstract concept as time, trying to make sense of it all by attempting to create links to the more concrete visual world.
I believed that time machines actually existed, but only really rich people were allowed to have them. I seriously thought this up until I was about 11 or 12 years old.
You know how some calendars have the number of days left in the year and/or the day of the year that is was in the date box (ex: Feb 1 would have a '32' and a '334' in it), well I was CONVINCED from about age 6-8 that one of those numbers meant the number of days until a nuclear war started!
I have a friend who is a freshman in college this year. She was in a class and notice on the sylabus that she had off on a monday in january and it said, "MLK Day" below it. She raised her hand and asked the professer, "What is Milk Day." The class, while giggling, told her that's a day when you're supposed to got to a farm and milk a cow. She said, "Oh, weird, I've never heard of that." So from now on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day will always be "Milk Day."
When i was in first grade, i made the
"discovery" that the day started really early. (i didn't know that there were 24 hours and that everybody knew this) and i thought i was a genius because i had "discovered" this. i was so happy because i thought i would get aknowledged or awarded. =]
When I was 6 or so, I had months and years reveresed in my head (ie: 12 years in one month). So when I was told Christmas was 3 months away, I was horrified at the thought that I wouldn't get another gift till I was nine.
When I was in my early teens, I firmly believed that good days and bad days alternated, i.e. I had a good day and a bad day and a good day and so on.
I used to wake up in dread of bad days and quite optimistic on good ones. I even noted it down in my dairy, to keep track. I believed this for years, till it just faded away.
When I was little, I was just BENT on going back to the dinosaur age like Calvin and Hobbes. I made a box, drew on it, and sat in it for over 48 hours at a time. I'd occasionally yell "MOM! I THINK I'M TOO HUNGRY FOR IT TO WORK!" so she'd bring me some stuff. So finally, I went back to the dinosaur age, but my mom was like "No dinosaurs, it's time for school." I woke up...depressed.
you know the saying "fall back, spring forward"? When we set the clocks back an hour in the fall, I thought we were actually traveling back in time by 1 hour. I thought we had to redo everything we did in the past hour. And when we set them forward in the spring, I thought we were traveling 1 hour into the future. I didn't understand why we did it every year. I wondered "Why should we travel back in forth in time so much?" haha, I was stupid...
When i was 5 or 6 years old my mother and I were driving to visit my grandparents. This was a 500 mile trip. I was bored and always asking when we would be there and how long til we would be there. My mother told me to try sleeping, if i slept time would go faster. I literally believed this for years to come. When i slept time went faster. The hands on the clock would spin maybe 20-40 % faster than i was awake i estimated
When I was four or five, I got out of bed one night to join my mother and her friend downstairs. It was very late, so my mother and her friend convinced me that little boys who were awake after midnight turn into girls. Once I was back in bed, I had to keep checking that my privates were still there and my hair was still short. I had no clock in my room, so I was terrified that the stroke of midnight could come at any time and I would become a yucky girl.