"Sinclair Dinosaur Exhibit, Chicago World's Fair"
Greetings, fair and gentle folk.
So, I was looking back through my posterous blog to see what might be edited, and I ran smack into that Sinclair Gasoline sign, and suddenly this memory came back to me.
Two things: my first ever recurring nightmare (although, once I describe it, you'll find it hard to believe how scary it truly was at 3 yrs. old) and my first haunted house.
When I was a little girl, we used to go to "the Country" as opposed to "the City" of the New York variety. The closest place that was all set up for us with bungalows, adults' and children's programs and swimming pools were the multitudinous 'Bungalow Colonies" dotting the Catskills hamlets.
We went to the same one every year in my early childhood - the whole extended family in nearby bungalows - and you may hear some other stories from that period crop up once in a while... you can't be sure you're safe (Don't go back in the water!)
As an adult I found myself back up in that same area, and searched heartily several times in vain for the place we had stayed. Probably long gone, but the fact that no one remembered the actual name made it a bit harder.
Okay - a combination of brevity (which is the soul of wit (not guaranteed under law, said Lord Polonius, once again from Hamlet) and suspense. Don't know whether I'm for either. We shall see. Poor start on the brevity part.
One year when we stayed for the summer, every night I would have the same dream. There were liquidly beautiful buttercups erupting all over the lawns, and I would dream of this one on a hill. All by itself. And you just know that is not how buttercups grow.
I was on my stomach at the bottom of the hill, looking up at it, and something about the wholesome landscape felt menacing, though all I could see was the buttercup, grass, bue blue skies, and hill. Harmless enough.
And yet...
I felt something wrong about the scene.
So, I started crawling on my hands and knees, closer to the hill, then scaling its banked side, until I was almost able to peek over the top.
Something inside told me not to do it. "Don't look! Ever!," the voice said, but I was 3 or 4 and couldn't help myself, so I slowly raised myself just enough to look over.
And there in a dale, was a.... house. I never knew it was there. Seemed so real.
Gables and little windows everywhere. It looked so pretty from the outside, but I could see that it was completely dark... all those windows empty of light.
Somehow it had turned into night during my expedition. And then day with a dark sun. Like a full solar eclipse.
I never went down the other side, though I felt tempted... and never got to see into the lonely house, only visible from the top of the surrounding hills.... but I just knew something was deadly wrong.
The buttercup was beautiful and yet, tempted me. What I wound up with was fear.
***
Okay - the second thing I would like to place in juxtaposition is that a couple of summers later on, I walked down the road with some mates from our colony ;) , and we passed one of those old Sinclair Gas Station signs, and I was so intrigued by the dinosaur, I remember, it was like I took a photo of that moment in my mind.
Flash!
Almost like I knew that's what was happening as I took it in. It was old then, so you can imagine how old it is now, but of course it's long gone. I've combed that area pretty thoroughly about 25 years ago. I would have noticed 'twere it there.
Okay - so the four of us get the farthest we ever were from the colony when we hit a T-stop, all lush green, overgrown trees, and on the corner closest, a big old shuttered wood house of many floors. It was ominous looking enough without what my friend said next.
"You know that place is haunted."
"How do YOU know?"
"Well, my older brother told me, didn't he? He heard about this group of older kids that went in and tried to stay the night. Not one of them made it all the way through!"
"Really?" I shivered a bit, though it was quite a warm day.
We walked back slowly and less chattily. Not one of us had wanted to just 'look around a bit' or investigate, even though it was broad daylight.
That was the first time I not only saw what was meant to be a 'haunted house' or even heard of such things until that day.
***
I've NEVER put those two events together until sitting down and writing this blog entry. They seem related now, and I wonder that I never ever connected them, though I do periodically go through my handful of bungalow colony-related memories, so naturally they get rolled around together.
Connections between things are.... interesting.
"Sublime Sun"
Happiest of Birthdays and Greatest of Wishes to one of the most amazing, talented, and inspiring people I know. 
I was trying to write, write, write, driven as I feel, but couldn't... so I thought I'd look for a night quote to send everyone off to the sweetness of sleep.This one seemed to fit more eerily for my day than I expected to find... and it was my first peek too.
Night,
the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the
destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important
becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary
self and grows with the calm of a tree.
