When I was about 3 or 4, I thought everything I saw on TV was done by little people inside the TV set.
I knew the scenes were filmed with real humans, but I had no idea about special effects and pretending so I thought that everything I saw was real. Imagine the horror of thinking that people being shot in the movies, would actually die. I even asked my mother why did they agree to be shot. Was it just for the money?
Also, I used to ask really awkward questions about sex at ages other kids don't even know there is such a thing.
I used to believe I could wake up some day and discover I have supernatural powers. This belief was mainly fueled by the TV and some dreams I had about being able to fly and things like this.
On the TV I thought that it was being acted out each time. I thought that Gilligan must be getting bored with doing the same show over and over and that the people on MASH worked all of the time. What an idjit!
One night when I was a wee lad, our car broke down on the Interstate. We weren't far from home, so we just walked back. In order to keep me well away from the road and especially the semi trucks, my parents told me that the airflow from a semi could suck me underneath and I'd get run over. I believed it. They don't even remember telling me this, but to this very day if I happen to be on the side of the road and a semi passes me, I tense up.
My mental image of God was pretty amusing. I pictured him in Heaven, on his throne. He was a giant, of course. The funny thing is, I very clearly recall that I pictured him as an Asian man in a suit. Why was God an Asian giant in my young mind? I have no freakin' clue.
I ate a lot as a kid. Who am I kidding, I eat a lot now. My mom used to ask, "Do you have a hollow leg?" I actually thought that I was hollow and filled up on food by filling the void through out my body instead of the stomach.
I believed I could make my bicycle fly by taping cut-out wings (from notebook paper) to the pedals and top-tube. As I was cutting out the wings, I was trying to solve the problem of landing, which seemed the precarious conundrum I had to solve. Needless to say, the wings were quickly torn to shreds as I began pedaling *sigh*. In previous attempts to fly, I wrapped my favorite blanky (dubbed "Favie") around my shoulders and leaped from my grandmother's recliner. That didn't work, either. A couple years later, after church, I sat in the back of our VW van and earnestly prayed to God to give me wings, weeping all the while. I had faith! That damn God never comes through...
I was a huge fan of a goofy TV show called The Greatest American Hero. I thought if I had a cape and jumped off the top of the monkey bars, that would be able to fly, or at least glide. No dice. Luckily I didn't kill myself.
I never really thought about flying much, but I was obsessed with breathing underwater; I was so desperate to turn into a mermaid. I think it's similar in that both flying and swimming would allow you to explore a whole new environment, whether in the air or underwater.