Please make sure that you don't miss a thing. The riveting true story of my life and the brain damage it has caused.

Some say the night time is the right time that was not the case at my house. The warping that began by day grew steadily worse and more frightening by night. Bedtime was an experience almost every single night. I was blessed and also cursed with a very vivid imagination. The kind of imagination that can create beautiful pictures and stories and in the next thought tear the pictures to shreds and make nightmares out of happy endings. I was not good at separating images I saw on television from the reality in which I lived in therefore Dracula, The Werewolf, and that stupid Purple Panda from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood frequently visited the window by my bed. I could see them there just as plain as day. I do believe that they were there to kill me. I remember one night the fear was too much. I could not sleep at all. I was hysterical and inconsolable. I made a mad dash down the hallway of our home from my bed to the living room. I saw that Purple Panda staring in the window. He made that awful and incomprehensible noise as he tried to speak to me. He was there to get me and take me away from my parents I was convinced of this. Sobbing I sat with my parents trying to explain this and after a time my dad put on his shoes and like the hero he was walked outside to kill the beast. After a short time he returned with the all clear signal and it was time to go back to bed and rest assured that the Purple Panda was not going to get me tonight. He never returned. My foe was vanquished. Dracula and the Werewolf on the other hand would visit quite frequently taunting me and haunting me until finally with eyes closed shut and held as tightly as possible, which by the way really works for imaginary creatures, I would drift off to sleep.

My imagination was not always bad for me, but it was really hard on my parents. The first bike that I rode was an incredibly ugly red and orange bike with the matching banana seat. I thought the color alone made me faster on that bike than any other kid ever that ever lived. We would ride around the neighborhood all day long on our bikes it was great fun and the thrill of freedom. The simplicity of it would all change as Evil Knievel became my idol. We would all build ramps and see who could jump the highest and the farthest. I am not sure what the rest of the neighborhood kids thought but I knew that I was the greatest of all time and that there was nothing that I could not jump. A friend of mine had built a ramp in his back yard and it was very sturdy and surely worthy of a champion like myself to make history. I remember that we had set the ramp up so that we could get a run on it jump and land and not hit the fence that was only a few feet away. I did that several times and so did the rest of our gang. I realized that these were their best attempts but it was only warm up for me. I started the record breaking run pedaling for all I was worth because I was going to jump that fence and show them all that Evil Knievel was riding amongst them. I took to the pedals and made hell of the pace that the others had set. I hit the ramp and lifted the bike underneath me. I am going to tell you this boy was flying and it seemed as though immortality was only seconds away. The damnedest force of nature is surely gravity and it reared its ugly head that day. There is a time when seconds seem like hours and dreams collide with reality at brute force. I saw the fence drawing closer and my front tire was sinking lower and lower. I was not going to make history excepting maybe medical history if they could extract the bike from my intestines. I crashed into the fence and for a moment my bike hung on the top of that fence as I fell on my back. I could see the eyes of my friends as they rushed toward me. I was hoping to see the excitement but was left staring at their horrorified faces. I knew I was going to be fine I could feel everything and no real pain to speak of. My bike suffered minor damage and my imagination suffered worse. It was now time to find less dangerous role models.

The Evil Kneivel experiment was soon replaced with The Brady Bunch experience. My family was about to become The Brady Bunch whether they liked it or not. I gave them all names according to age and gender, but it seems there were more women than men on the show and not so the case in the family. I would address them by their Brady name and expected that they would answer appropriately when called. I was not very patient with them either. This may have been cute for an afternoon or maybe a whole day. I seemed to like them so much more as the Brady's that I kept this up for weeks. It was not only in the house but in public as well. I would address my grandparent's as Mr. Brady and Alice that is just how they fell in line and I could not tell you how that really worked out on paper. I was with my grandparents one evening in the store this was nearly a month after they had been clued into their character's names. I was trying to get my grandmother's attention by yelling Alice at her in the store and then apparently grandpa forgot that he was Mr. Brady so when I tried to talk with him he only ignored me. As we were checking out I told grandma that I was mad. She said why? I said "Well Alice, Mr. Brady won't talk to me anymore." It was not long after this incident that the Brady's left the house for good only to be enjoyed on the television.

I had another name when I was younger too and I went through a phase like maybe most normal kids do and would only answer to my name. I was Sandy. I would not pay heed to any other name. Daniel no longer existed because Sandy was disinterested in hearing that name spoken. My mother hated this and the longer it went on the less patience she would have with me. Sandy didn't stick around too long and soon I was back to being just plain Daniel Doodle, Doo for short. It was a nickname that I lived with until around the time of my first daughter's arrival.