I was raised on fantasy and science fiction, raised on a foundation of lies. No one read me any Asimov or Tolkien; they simply told me marvelous untruths, and I believed them. "If you keep crying, your hair will lose its curl." "See this radio? There's a tiny little orchestra living inside." "Don't swallow any seeds, or a tree will grow inside of you."

I was a gullible little girl, and I believed most of what they told me; the irony behind it all was that usually, I believed the lies and disbelieved what was actually the truth.

"How come I have to take a nap, and you get to stay up?"

"Because," my uncle would say, "we're grownups. We don't need as much sleep any more. But you're still growing. You need your sleep."

Ha! He couldn't even lie properly. That sorry little excuse wasn't even halfway believable; in fact, it was too damned illogical, and as soon as they closed my bedroom door, I snuck out through the window and spent all of naptime playing with my neighbor and best friend Daman. They found out and raised hell, of course, and they grounded me, but it didn't help them a bit because I still refused to take my naps. If they get to stay up and play, then I get to stay up and play, too.

Until finally, my uncle was too fed up to even be angry.

"It's time for your nap now, Gigi," he said [Gigi is what my family call me]. "Tell Daman that you'll play with him tomorrow."

"But I'm not sleepy, Uncle Danny. I want to play some more."

"You have to come in for your nap now. It's time."

"No, I don't feel like sleeping." I kept my stand on the issue, and from the uneasy look on my uncle's face, I knew that I had won.

But I was only six at the time. What did I know, really?

"Please, Gigi," my uncle said, quite clearly upset, and I began to sense that all was not right.

"What's wrong?" He was darting his eyes toward the door and beyond, looking very anxious, very desperate. His hands kept guiding me further indoors.

"Please, Gigi," he said once more. "If you don't take your nap, The Man will come and get you."

"The Man?" I asked, instantly frightened. "What man?"

"There's a man in the neighborhood," he told me, "and he takes skinny little girls like you, locks them up, and feeds them to his tigers." Never mind that such kidnapping was illegal; never mind that tigers weren't kept as pets; and never mind that if a man were to feed little girls to his tigers, he wouldn't feed them skinny little girls--I believed him then and there. I pictured a dark room full of cages, and contained in the cages were either tigers or skinny little girls like me. I even imagined an empty cage reserved for my own skinny little self.

What to do? What to do?

"If you go to sleep, he won't take you today."

I hardly even had any time to think of my uncle's words before the doorbell rang, and by this time, I had already imagined all sorts of horrifying things that I had scared myself quite thoroughly. Was that him already? Was The Man here to come and take me away? Away from all my family and friends? Away from love and life?

Would he really go away if I take my nap?

What to do? What to do?

"Hurry! Hurry!" my uncle cried, his eyes opened wide in horror. "That's probably The Man right now. Get in bed and go to sleep." He seemed as scared as I was, so with my heart racing, I ran into my room and scrambled underneath the covers on my bed. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, and I was afraid that The Man would hear it, too, and come barging in to take me away.

If I took my nap, would he really leave me alone?

The doorbell rang again, and I heard my uncle answer it. Shutting my eyes tight, I covered my head with the blanket and listened for The Man's voice.

"Can Gigi come out?" I heard him say, and I became absolutely convinced that my uncle had been telling me the truth. The Man's voice struck fear in my heart--never mind that it sounded awfully like the voice of my good friend Daman; I didn't even notice the resemblance. With greater effort, I closed my eyes and told myself that I was asleep.

"No," I heard my uncle reply, "she's taking a nap."

"Oh." I could hear the disappointment in The Man's voice, and it made me weak with relief. He wasn't going to take me away!

"Can you come back tomorrow?" my uncle asked, and my eyes flew open at the words. Tomorrow?

"Okay," was the answer, and I nearly cried out loud in fear. He would actually come back again! He would actually come back tomorrow to take me away.

I understood then why I had to take a nap everyday, and so I did--faithfully. Never mind that I was too frightened those first few days to even get a blink of slumber. I did what I had to do and came in at naptime to lie in my bed and watch the bedroom door from deep beneath my covers. Eventually, of course--nine or ten years later, as a matter of fact--I realized that I had been duped into believing the biggest, most unbelievable lie in the entire world history. I had always taken people's words at face value--at least, as long as they were logical; the realization that I had been royally tricked, however, made me more skeptical about everything I was told.

I no longer believed that I had a mouse living beneath my skin whenever my muscles twitched, and I no longer believed that a cockroach would bite me between the legs if I didn't wear any underwear; I no longer readily believed in anything--except maybe politicians' promises and lovers' lies--and for someone who almost always tells the truth and expects the same from others, it was a hard lesson to learn. But I learned it, and I learned it well, because I had to understand that truth is an elusive thing and because, though there are many truthful people like me in this world, there are also very many deceitful people. I learned my lesson, and I learned it well.

And I did it because I really, really hated taking naps.