As a mere child I went to many. Not like your average local art museum with a few local artists, I mean the GREAT interactive MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY/ART kind of locale.
The original one in mind has long since been rebuilt into a clinical, brightly lit complex as we often see today. But as a child, it was a dark, labyrinthine mess of pinned insects, giant creature models, dinosaur dioramas, creepy animations, murky dark aquariums, halls of gems, and taxidermy. It was a dark fever dream like place, and I went there every weekend. Even in its final days there were some portions of the place I was too terrified to even look at. A giant bee diorama, a giant plankton diorama, and the worst. A pair of Diatryma. Frozen in time they seemed. Surrounded by insects large enough to tower over me. Ironically those two Gastornis were sold during an auction, minus their feathers liked plucked chickens. So many of my dreams and nightmares are derived from these museums. Winding eternally with bizarre en-caged spectacles of the bizarre and wonderful that I could not yet comprehend. I still dream of it. Some children watched cartoons. I wandered museums.