My fondest childhood memory

So...I know this is weird, but my fondest childhood memory is a very vivid nightmare I had when I was five years old.

My mom is one of those people who insists on decorating the house for every holiday. And not just the livingroom, like most normal people. Oh no, she put decorations in the bathroom, in the hallway, in my room. For Halloween that year she put a big white ghost over my closet door.

How warped is that? I, like most kids, was scared of my closet in the dark anyway. To hang a ghost over the door was just asking for trouble. Or lifetime trauma. Or, in my case, my fondest childhood memory.

OK, so the night she hung this stupid ghost over my closet I had one of the most bizarre dreams ever.

I dreamt that it was Halloween night. And on Halloween night, the big tradition was not trick or treating - it was going to the cemetary to visit the dead. The dead would rise up out of their graves and stand on their gravesite, waiting for visitors to come. You couldn't talk to the dead [apparently, the dead couldn't communicate], but you could take the manilla envelope they were buried with and see what was inside - in my dream, the dead were always buried with a manilla envelope full of their treasures.

However, visitors were warned never to jingle change in the manilla envelopes. No one knew what would happen if you did...you just weren't supposed to.

My Uncle George and I went to the cemetary. Gilligan [you know, Gilligan's Island] was dead and buried in the cemetary, so there he was standing on his gravesite. Gilligan smiled at me and I took his envelope.

As I was looking around, I jingled the change!

And with that, all the nice dead people turned into zombies and chased my Uncle and I all around the town.

And that's what the dream is: running and running and running.

My mom found me running around the house in circles, screaming my head off. And I remember the dream vividly to this day.

Weird, but considering my dearth of good childhood memories...that will have to do.