Here's a recurring dream I had as a kid that I still remember vividly to this day (and I'm 43 now) Must have happened when I was five or six:
I was sitting on the stairs that lead to the front door of our house. The door was open, it was a sunny day. I had a clear view of the street, and could see the sidewalk up to the neighbours house, where my view of the sidewalk became blocked by bushes.
As I sat on the steps, I could hear parade music approaching, and soon a group of purple hippos in marching band uniforms came into view past the bushes. For some reason they terrified me, these cartoon hippos in their cute little uniforms, playing their jolly, uptempo music, proudly marching up the walk in front of my house. I prayed (in my dream) that they wouldn't notice me, but as soon as they reached the foot of our walk, the leader would turn his big purple head towards me and smile a big, happy, hippo smile.
As the rest of the band began to follow the bandmaster's lead, I'd jump up and run into the kitchen, scared shitless, where my mother and her friend were doing the dishes. My mother was Betty Rubble and her friend was Wilma Flintstone. Everything in the dream was black and white except for the hippos and Flintstone characters.
Hence my fondness for alcohol
