Childhood memory: sleep paralysis

i used to exhaust myself
but i could never sleep
my head would hit the pillow
my eyes would droop shut
but i would lie awake for hours
tossing and turning
clutching stuffed toy animals
listening to the train rattling outside

then my body would shut down
but my mind?
wide awake
i could see my bedroom
as if i was conscious
could see my body lying,
twitching

i remember trying to open my mouth
trying to scream for my mother
'help me help me' i would internally come out
but my mouth wouldn't open
and you couldn't hear a sound

i'd force myself to cough
try to throw around my limbs
i'd try to pinch myself
pull my hair
but my body was as heavy as a brick
unresponsive

i'd just have to lie there
helpless and immobile
until my mind also surrendered
and everything went black

Childhood memory: Dogs

When I tell people I used to have an extreme phobia of dogs, people rarely believe me. Today, I'm the kind of person who will yell 'Dog!' whenever I see a dog being walked and then resume my original conversation. I'm the kind of person who has a favourite dog that I see on my walk to college, who I have named and given a personality to. I've also been known to cry at pictures of dogs: I'm definitely not the person you would imagine having such an extreme phobia of dogs that I couldn't even walk on the same side of the road as one.


I know that my phobia stemmed from two unfortunate incidents when I was younger. When I was three years old, my parents dropped me around to my babysitter's house, and I met her jumpy but friendly Jack Russell, Fidget. And when I say I 'met' him, I mean he jumped and yapped all over me, thinking I was some kind of chew toy. For a shy three year old, this was terrifying, and for a few years after I was always slightly wary of jumpy dogs.


Then I met my uncle's dog.


Looking back, I don't blame the dog for what happened. Like most dog-related incidents, I think it's the owner's fault, and this is a viewpoint I stand by to this day. I was about seven I think, and I was slowly beginning to trust dogs again. I was getting out of the car to greet my Uncle when I was pounced on faster than a lightning bolt. All I saw was this flurry of white and brown coming at me like a bullet and then hurtling into me at full force. My uncle and mother thought the dog was just playing around, but then he bit into my ankle and wouldn't let go. I screamed and that's the moment my uncle picked me up and made everything ten times worse. He started whirling me around in the air, my limbs flailing with an angry dog's teeth still well and truly sunken into my leg.


I don't quite know what happened next, but that's what triggered an all-consuming phobia of dogs that lasted until I was about eleven. I remember crossing roads to avoid them, my grandmother telling me to 'whistle a happy tune' whenever I saw one to calm down my racing heart. I remember asking friends if they had any dogs before I went around their house, so they could lock them away in a room before I got there and I wouldn't have to see them. I remember one of my friends not taking me seriously and that's how a German Shepherd ended up chasing me around the house, growling and snarling, even though she had reassured me that he was gentle and 'wouldn't hurt a fly'.


I still can't quite put my finger on what eventually got me over my fear of dogs. I remember my aunt getting a Dalmatian at one point, who I did love dearly. He ate everything, including my brother's chocolate lollipop, and was around for many years: I even worked up the courage to take him for a walk. Maybe it was my dad's refusal to allow his daughter to fear something he loved so intently, maybe I just haven't had any more negative experiences (touch wood) with dogs so in time I have gotten over it.  Just a few days ago I was greeted by a gate by a giant German Shepherd and two jumpy, excitable Pitbull Terriers. I'm happy to say that fear did not enter my heart once.

Childhood memory: Toys

I really miss toys
the ones that you need scissors to cut open to get to
that clear, thick plastic that comes apart like an Easter egg
I miss Tamagotchis
playing games underneath the table
so the teacher couldn't see
I miss making my father walk to the shops
at 9 'o' clock at night
to buy me the little circular batteries
that made my little pet spring to life.

I miss that simple joy of childhood
£2 for a packet of plastic sculptures
that made you popular the next day
I miss bring your toy to school day
showing off my Pixel Chix car to all my friends
and playing Gogo Crazy Bones
trading, swapping, bargaining
We were the real entrepreneurs.

I miss my Nintendo DS
and Animal Crossing, Nintendogs
I miss the summer bliss of outstretched legs
and looking for the stylus that always went
missing

I miss having a Christmas tree
that overflowed with presents
because back then what I wanted came
in a cardboard box and with an Argos reservation

Now I buy overpriced make-up
and my gifts are in envelopes
the Christmas tree is empty
I've sold all my toys
even my brother's outgrown them now.

Childhood memory: Playtime

I remember the soft play areas
when I was a little kid.
Smelling vaguely like sweat and nappies,
strong tea wafting from the parents on the sidelines,
empty Twix wrappers littered on the floor


I would climb through holes,
graze my knees on that twisted rope
and cry when my friends tried to make me go down the Death Slide.
Carpet burn, rubbed red raw, on my hands and thighs,
I'd come out bruised but happy.


I found myself allergic to the fuzzy plastic on toy cars
that made your hair stand on end,
I was coated head to toe in Calamine lotion,
my mum painted whiskers on me so that I looked like a rabbit
and not a child ghost.


I played with imaginary friends
like every child does.
Mine was Harry Potter, although I hadn't read the books
or even watched the films
but everyone liked Harry Potter.
Maybe if I said I was friends with him
People would like me too?