One of my earliest memories was from when I was around 4 or 5 years old. My parents took me to the local county fair and my dad thought it would be fun to put me on a burlap bag and slide me down one of these slides by myself. It’s another reason why I love my dad. He can be so randomly adventurous sometimes.
That memory was pretty frightening to me though. I had never been on a slide before (I think). And I didn’t realize how high up we were, or how fast we were going. I also was completely thrown for a loop by the bumps on the slide and nearly fell off the burlap bag, off the slide itself even. I held on for dear life, and I was crying when I reached the end.
I remember it felt good to be on the ground again. It felt safe to be held by my dad [who was probably laughing his socks off]. I was rewarded with an ice cream and fell asleep from all the excitement on the ride home.
That memory resurfaces every so often in a dream about sliding down a never ending rainbow colored slide on a piece of burlap. the bumps are always terrifyingly huge. I would always hang on for dear life in the dreams. I don’t count these dreams as nightmares though. Heart-pounding? Yes. Scary? Yes. But not a nightmare.
Because I knew at the end of the slide, my dad would be there with an ice cream. And we would go home after a very memorable day, one that I would laugh at in the future.