For a short period of time when I was seven, I was deathly afraid of the Bogeyman. Except, of course, we called him the Boogieman. When we were sent down for our naps at Mrs. Fretwell's, I often got the big bed in the basement.

In the early afternoon, with the curtains closed, it was dark and shadowy.

Earlier that week, someone had talked about the Boogieman, and how they saw him, and how scary it was, and I had cottoned onto the idea like it was an ice cream sandwich. So I was lying on the bed - in the exact middle, because the Boogieman hid underneath the bed, and he would reach out and over the bed grabbing at what he could. However, he could not reach the middle of the bed from there. I was determined not to sleep.

I drifted off. I couldn't help it. I jerked awake a little while later, and I saw it - him - it. The arm of the Boogieman was standing straight up next to the bed. The Boogieman wears a pinstriped blue suit - impossibly bright, actually. It had to be a starched summer fabric, and the cuffs of his white shirts showed just above the jacket's arm.

The Boogieman had white gloves on and thick pudgy hands. There was something menacing and different about his hand, standing up straight in the gloom next to the bed.

I have no idea what happened next. I think I leapt off the bed and cowered near the wall. Why that would save me, I have no idea. Maybe I thought the Boogieman was chained to the bed. Maybe I thought he was afraid for his face to be seen. Whatever the reason, it was clear to me that the Boogieman was probably not going to follow me from there.

I never saw him again.

Years later I realized that the arm of the boogieman was shockingly similar to the arm on my Mickey Mouse plastic disc player. Bright blue and white pinstripes and a big white (four fingered) glove served as the player arm and needle holder.