Despite my happy childhood, I am not without my childhood traumas. Since my upbringing itself was relatively uneventful, I used my active imagination to create dangers and drama where none existed. They ran the gamut from the obvious character-building traumas (i.e my parents never let us buy a pony and keep him in our suburban garage, due to some wild injustice they called "zoning laws") to things known only to myself. I reveal some of them them here for the first time.
Some are shared by many—circus clowns, of course, which soon morphed into clown dolls and from there to Evil Clown Dolls That Strangle You In Your Sleep. I also had an intense dislike of Raggedy Ann and Andy (the only difference between the two was Andy apparently wore a kicky sailor hat). I did not like Raggedy Ann because I was given a book of her stories and the illustrations had these dolls walking around interacting with real things (animals and whatnot) in a manner I found most unnatural and spooky. (My concerns proved to be well-founded when I got older and read of that famous evil ghost-hunting husband and wife team who had a demon-possessed Raggedy Ann who apparently tried to strangle her owners in their sleep. You see? They are Evil, I tell you! Eeeeeeevil!)