When I was two or three years old my parents and I and perhaps my brother Tom, depending on if he was born yet, lived in an apartment on the first floor of an old farm house on Long Island, in Center Moriches, NY, I think. This was before my parents' divorce (obviously, if I'm not sure my brother was born, yet).
We entered the house thru the kitchen, which was cramped by a large dining table. My parent's bedroom and the only bathroom were to the right and had doors that opened directly to the kitchen. I remember the kitchen being dark. It was probably wood paneled.
To the left was either an open doorway or a door that was always open into an open dining area with a wood floor and large bay windows that let in lots of light. I would usually play with my trucks in that room, because it was good for zoomin', but my parents would constantly nag me about not sliding for fear of splinters. I remember the dining room being very "woody" so perhaps there was paneling on the bottom of the walls and a lighter color, maybe yellow or some wall paper with yellow in it on the top.
Further left and off the dining area was a small, nearly useless room on the same wall as the front door and bay windows. It also had many large windows. I remember that room being white and having some type of built in cabinets that I never opened. My toys were stored in this room, and I played in here when my mother and I were tired of each other, so much of the time.
Also farther left and off the dining area in about the middle of the house was my bedroom. I remember it being mostly blue. I mostly just slept in there and played in the other two rooms. All the way in the back of the house, opposite the bay window and separated from the dining room by an open archway was our living room, which I remember being dark, and probably carpeted. It was the early seventies so the likelihood of more paneling was high.
This is the stage upon which our tale will play out.
One night as I slept in my room I had a particularly vivid dream. I dreamt I was sleeping, actually, but then woke up. Groggy and confused, I walked into the dining room. It was very late, but my father was there with the lights on. He was crouched over our Hoover canister vacuum, which was a triangly looking thing with a flip up top for access to the inner workings. My mother was coming in from the kitchen with a cup of tea and headed to sit in the living room to read or watch TV. I followed her there.
I sat in the chair with Mom and watched Dad fuss with the vacuum for a while. It seemed like some time had passed in the weird way time passes in dreams. The scene was peaceful and ordinary, until something startled my dad, which is an unusual thing in and of itself. Mom did not react.
I looked to see what was happening, becoming frightened at my father's reaction, only to see a large clown climbing out of the vacuum cleaner. He wore a white jumpsuit with red, yellow and blue balloons of various sizes in a polka dot pattern all over. He had the standard big red shoes and white tutu like cuffs on his pants, sleeves, and collar. His curly red hair tufted out from beneath his cone shaped, pom-pommed hat. He was slightly larger than my father, who was still crouching and now somewhat off balance.
Startling as that site was, I was not truly frightened until the next moment. Clowny attacked Dad.
I panicked and screamed to Mom to help, though she had still not reacted to what was happening in the next room. She stood and gently set me back in the chair, then took her now empty tea cup into the kitchen. She left me alone. She walked past Dad without acknowledging his peril and disappeared into the kitchen.
Within moments Dad was overpowered and laying on the dining room floor. The clown looked up and saw me watching, and came straight for me.
Being tiny and still young enough to believe that if I just lay on the seat of the chair so that he couldn't see me over the arm that he would forget I was there and leave, that's what I did. I heard him cackling and felt his footsteps approach. I was silent, again in the hopes he would go away.
So quickly did he move I couldn't get away. He was suddenly standing over my chair and had taken me by the throat. I had a moment to stare into his malicious face. He then started to choke me with both hands, driving my head into the cushioned chair back. I struggled to no avail, and eventually passed out.
After a brief period of darkness, I became aware of myself again. I opened my eyes and found I was back in my room. However, I was near the ceiling in the corner opposite my bed, looking down at myself sleeping. I felt odd and peaceful, alone but not lonely, and remained very still as I stared at myself in bed. After a few heart beats, I began to drift toward the bed. Once I reached it, I actually woke up. The house was dark, and no one was awake but me. I went back to sleep, a bit shaken, but glad the experience was over.
To this day clowns horrify me.
