I have hated having my head covered since I was very young. When I was about 11 years old I was sleeping outside our home in the field near our big swings. Wayne Johnson was sleeping out with me. I had my father's WWII sleeping bag which zippered up so your arms and legs and whole body was inside. The only surface showing was your face. We were goofing off and thought it would be fun to bury ourselves in a double bag. The second bag would be put over the first bag in a reverse direction. I agreed to go first and my WWII bag was put on and then Wayne took his bag and put it over my head and drew it down to my feet. Wayne then jumped on top of the bags and me. I started to panic and I am thankful that Wayne didn't keep me in the two bags. Even today when I think about the experience I get a horrible feeling. I don't know if this was the start of my claustrophobia in regards to having my head covered but I don't like blankets or pillows on my head and I hate to see people piling on each other in any type of celebration.
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