My childhood home in Florida was nestled right in the heart of Gulf Breeze, just across a long bridge that led to Pensacola. If you’ve never been there, you’re missing a lot of slow and sunny days. But not much else.
|3 mile bridge from Gulf Breeze to Pensacola!|
Throughout the three years we lived there, I had this recurring nightmare: hundreds of people are milling about on the Pensacola bridge. It is the grand opening of the bridge (this bridge actually opened in 1960, but whatever), and balloons and kiosks are set up all over the place. Don’t ask me. It’s a dream. In my dreams, bridge openings requite kiosks that sell newspapers with headlines about the bridge opening. Because obviously, the people there couldn’t figure that out on their own.
Everyone is having a fabulous “yay it’s a new bridge!” sort of day. Suddenly, the clouds roll in and the sky becomes black as night. A floating vampire dressed exactly like Dracula appears in the sky. He swoops down and grabs a beautiful woman with blonde hair. She is wearing a tight red dress. (Let’s all take a moment to remember that I am like FIVE years old here. What the hell?) In the instant that Dracula look-alike escapes with the gorgeous blonde, a tidal wave crashes over the bridge.
And then I would wake up.
Years later, on one of my trips to visit my grandparents back in Gulf Breeze, I had a new vampire nightmare. In this dream, horrific creatures chased me, and I knew they were vampires that wanted to kill me. During my dream, I remembered my nightmares from my childhood and realized I was dreaming. I turned and screamed at the vampires, “You’re not real!”
And I woke up, sweating and entirely creeped out.
I think this was about the same time I decided Florida was no longer a whimsical and fun-loving vacation spot.