I must confess something to you. I was scared of an episode of THE COSBY SHOW. That's right. THE COSBY SHOW.

In 1990 I was a mere six years old, and I had a very active imagination. I had a fondness in my heart for THE MUPPETS and THE MUPPET BABIES because they were shows that actively sought to tap in to the creativity of the children watching the show. I also liked to watch my share of prime time programming including, but not limited to, THE COSBY SHOW.

Where is the connection between the two, you ask? Well in 1990 an episode of THE COSBY SHOW entitled "Cliff's Nightmare" aired. In the episode Cliff returns home from a long night at the hospital and eats a sandwich that has gone bad – in spite of Claire's warnings. After he falls asleep, Cliff is the victim of a truly bizarre nightmare that absolutely freaked me out. In the dream, Cliff winds up serving under Theo in the Navy, sees his daughter form a time-traveling jazz combo with Olivia, Clair gets caught in a tornado, he's dragged around by THE MUPPETS' Sweetums and Doglion, and then his sandwich comes to life and literally disagrees with him. Gonzo, Waldorf, and a few other MUPPETS were featured as well.

I'm not sure exactly what it was that got to me. Maybe it was the fact that THE COSBY SHOW was so utterly not fantastical in any way and to see the disruption that came from my beloved MUPPETS storming a world of normalcy was too much for me to handle. It was freaky for me to see a figure of stability like Cliff Huxtable be brought to his figurative knees by a fantastic and imaginary world – and especially one that I loved dearly. Whatever it was it has stayed with me to this day. I've not seen the episode since, but I vividly remember it and start to fret a little bit when I think of it.

– The Warfreak

UNK SEZ:: Thanks warfreak and thanks for filling me in on something else I somehow missed, "Halloween Chicken McNugget Buddies" via your super cool website THE OLYMPIC ARTICHOKE!

I came across this blog post at Open Salon.

I watched the YouTube clip and am scarred for life, and I'm 37, and don't speak Norwegian.

I love your website.

UNK SEZ: Thanks Courtney! By way of your clip I was also introduced to the extremely creepy KARIUS AND BAKTUS who have been dubbed into English and seem to get off on destroying teeth!

I'm shocked, frankly, that no one has posted anything on this epic kindertraumatizer yet. Of all the animated horror that wreaked havoc upon my childhood, including FERN GULLY, FANTASIA and SNOW WHITE, none was as terrifying as LITTLE NEMO: ADVENTURES IN SLUMBERLAND, the 1992 American release of a 1989 Japanese cartoon film. This movie scared the hell out of me.

LITTLE NEMO is the story of Nemo, a nightmare-plagued little boy, much as I was at the time, who is chosen to become heir of a magical dream kingdom called Slumberland. Once given an ounce of responsibility, Nemo abuses his power and opens the forbidden door to nightmare land, putting himself, and everyone else in the kingdom, in some really deep shit. This includes getting King Morpheus of Slumberland captured by the evil Nightmare King. Way to go, Nemo, you putz.

Now, for starters, let's just ignore what kind of presently scary lessons this movie might teach kids like a)It's always O.K. to accept possibly drug-laced cookies from bearded, bespectacled child-molester types who come through your window at night, or b) it's a great idea to pick fights with policemen, as long as you have the help of a cigar-smoking criminal hobo voiced by MICKEY ROONEY, and let's concentrate on the stuff that really made you piss the bed.

For one thing: the fucked up nightmares. I think it seems natural that, when animation depicts a helpless boy being whisked away in a flying bed through the clouds to a creepy decrepit city, being betrayed by said bed (which is supposed to represent safety to small children) and dropped like 5,000 feet into some insane vortex that turns into a tunnel where he almost gets run down by an evil choo-choo train, maybe the viewing five-year-olds might not ever want to go to bed again. I mean, seriously, what the hell?!

And those creepy, slimy looking, black, smoky-type nightmare monsters with the red eyes who flood out of evil looking doors in caves? Can you say scared shitless? Even the supposedly "good goblins" were scary as hell. I don't give a damn how funny or cute you are supposed to think they are, they still have claws and fangs and beady little eyes. And those guys don't even go away when you wake up! They come out from under your fucking bed!! That's messed up.

Not to forget the poisoned cherry on top of this horrific sundae, last but not least, is the Nightmare King himself. Giant horns, big claws, glowing red eyes, oh, and did I mention he's like 50 stories tall? He bears close resemblance to another animated frightener, that big mountaintop Satan guy from the end of FANTASIA (on which I also intend to make a submission, since he scared the living piss out of me too) except instead of just grinning evilly and conjuring up weird skeletal warriors and little naked sprites to play around with, he imprisons your friends in funky little tubes where they're frozen in odd positions and he shocks them for fun. Combine all that with an impressive basso voice (complete with a slight hint of a theatrical mock-British accent) a lava pit, and claws that can pop up anywhere, you've got one wicked, creepy motherfucker who lives in a weird spirally castle and makes you piss the bed for a week.

All in all, we have here a genuine kindertraumatizer that will screw with your mind and keep you up and shaking way past your bedtime. And if you can eventually get to sleep without being convinced that the Nightmare King is in your closet, as soon as you doze off your bed is going to fly out the window and drop you in the ocean. Yeah, that's right, go jump in bed with mommy and daddy.

On a final note, I can tell you exactly why this movie is screwed up the way it is: because the man who adapted the screenplay is a sicko who's been frightening grownups for decades. Fucking RAY BRADBURY.

Yours in childhood trauma,

Dan G.

First of all, love your site! I've showed it to all my friends, and most of them couldn't get past the first page, they were so scared! I've scoured almost 30 pages of this here web site, and haven't seen one mention of Disney World's The Haunted Mansion!

I remember when I just a wee child of probably about six my parents took me to Walt's Florida escape, and they thought I was finally old enough to enjoy The Haunted Mansion. I was a little freaked out even going through the queue, but I managed to make it to the little room, which gave you the prologue to the actual ride. I was O.K. until the pictures in the room started moving and stretching to reveal some very horrifying images to a 6 year old!

I flipped out, and demanded my parents take me OUT of this ride immediately! Thankfully, there IS an emergency exit in this room, and I was escorted to safety.

Also, I never learned, until years later, what happens at the end of the picture stretching…the awful (and traumatizing) image of a man hanging himself right above you! Twenty-two years later, I'm not terrified anymore, but I still do feel a little uneasy in that little room. I hope I'm not the only one who spent years having nightmares because of WALT freakin' DISNEY!

AUNT JOHN SEZ: Thanks for writing in KtBear! Although I have yet to physically step foot in any of the fine family theme parks owned by the Disney Corporation (I am more of a low-rent, Wildwood, NJ boardwalk kind of boy who's going to take this opportunity to give a shout out to the now defunct Whacky Shack!), I have always been intrigued by The Haunted Mansion attraction.

I have spent countless hours lurking on DoomBuggies, drooled over the LP posted by Brother Bill at THE HAUNTED CLOSET, and most recently discovered the awesome design work of KEVIN KIDNEY. I reckon this all to say that if I were to have a bucket list of places I need to see before going to that malt shop in the sky, visiting The Haunted Mansion would be on there somewhere right above Dollywood, and maybe slightly below the Moscow Cat Museum.

Regarding trauma delivered at the hands of WALT DISNEY, you are definitely not alone! Just ask Lene, Carol, Jillcs, Vicar of VHS, me, and anyone else I might have overlooked (my apologies, in advance, to anyone who might fall into this neglected category).