I have many little snippets of memory from when I was between two and four. That is a time when we lived in southern California. It was a location very different from my present location, where I grew up, in many ways. But it is a dream that stands out as a complete full memory of my early years. Sometime when I was young, I dreamed that we were being attacked by bees, and when they stung they left holes in us. The only safe place was to climb on top of the picnic table that my grandfather made. It was in the southern California yard. I could picture it well. There was the block fence that separated the yard from my dad’s junkyard, our swing set, the play house, a large tree, and grass. I would run from the house and jump off the steps to get to the picnic table as quickly as possible. I had this dream many times over the years, and it’s probably why I was so afraid of bees.