I got lucky in that regard. When I was 8 years old, I went for a weekend visit at my dad's. I got up in the middle of the night to get water, and I heard him scream, "FREEZE," and, startled, turned around to see the barrel of a gun right in my face. I find it especially astounding because he had my brother and sister behind him so he accounted for only two of his children, I was less than four feet tall, and standing in front of a window that had an outside porch light illuminating me from behind so it's not like I was a dark shadowy burglar-looking figure, and the kitchen sink was loud enough to hear in the room he was approaching me from so it would be unusual to think a burglar is using your kitchen in the first place (besides Harry and Marv, of course).

I'm supremely glad that my dad at least had some pause in an otherwise bizarre series of actions. I still don't know what he was thinking, but as far as I know, I'm not typing this in a coma dream.