When I was little, my sister and I used to share bunk beds. At the time, I thought it was the Coolest! Thing! Ever! that I got to share a bedroom with my older, very cool, sister. She was 11 and so cool (and I was four and just idolized her).
Cool things that happened due to us sharing a room:
She and I would get to talk alot (although what an 11 year old would talk about with a four year old is beyond me). We played this game where she would hang her hand down over the side of the top bunk and we would hold hands, and our beds were a flying machine (like the Great Space Coaster). She would also hold my hand like that when I was feeling afraid of the dark. I remember one time, she and a friend of hers (who I want to say lived across the street, but I’m not sure) were talking on walkie-talkies in the night. I *so* wanted to be eleven!
But sharing a bedroom with a seven-years-younger sibling was probably not as cool for her as it was for me. This probably explains why, occasionally, the bed would start shaking. I would ask her why. She would say, all nonchalantly:
“Oh, that’s the Devil. He lives under your bed, and he’s just trying to get out. Boy, I’m sure glad I have the top bunk! Night-night!”
And people wonder why I won’t watch The Exorcist. NO THANK YOU.
Bunk beds are the major cause of my claustrophobia and acrophobia. At least that’s where it all started. I was always afraid the top bunk would either crash down on me or I’d roll off the top in the middle of the night – both of those things did happen to me, several times. If we had had bunk beds, like the ones you linked to? I’d have gotten a lot more sleep when I was a kid.
As for siblings and their scare tactics… my older brothers, when they babysat us, would make us watch “Chiller Theater” or those old, b&w late night horror movies – which is why I spent my childhood afraid of vampires and, to this day, won’t watch horror movies.
My sister and I shared bunk beds very briefly when we were quite small. We are less than 2 years apart, but I remember feeling VERY smug that I got to have the top bunk. But then I was smug about pretty much everything, back then. (what do you mean, I still am?!!??….
My father and his older brother used to share bunk beds when they were kids too. My uncle used to pick on my dad severely – so one night my dad, lying in his lower bunk, pulled his knees to his chest, and then drove his feet up against the top bunk as hard as he could – with the very pleasing result of seeing my uncle go flying over the side to the floor. Where he promptly got up and beat the shit out of dad. He says it was worth it, ha ha!
My favorite and worst memories involving bunk beds are from grade 5 camp at Sherbrooke Lake – at first I had a bottom bunk, which made it much easier to get up to pee if absolutely necessary (and believe me I put it off as long as possible, being in grade 5 and having to walk in the dark in the woods to the freaking outhouse – nothing more petrifying!) Later in the week I switched to a top bunk and was EXCEEDINGLY happy about it when half the camp got food poisoning and were throwing up every 10 minutes. I luckily was fine, just lay in my bunk, sheets over my face, pretending it all wasn’t happening…
Wow look at that, a novel about bunk beds. Sorry!