I believed in Santa until I was almost 10 - I was very angry with my mother when I found out she was the one who was putting presents out and told her so.
I believed that there might be a vampire under my bed waiting for the lights to go out to come and get me. I also saw in a movie somewhere that a vampire would only enter your home if you let it in, and then while in bed, in my head I'd go "no you can't come in", and then another voice in my head would say "yes come in" and I'd have this fight with myself in my head and panic at the end.
No I'm not schyzophrenic. 
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Whether we write or speak or do but look
We are ever unapparent. What we are
Cannot be transfused into word or book.
Our soul from us is infinitely far.
However much we give our thoughts the will
To be our soul and gesture it abroad,
Our hearts are incommunicable still.
In what we show ourselves we are ignored.
The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged
By any skill of thought or trick of seeming.
Unto our very selves we are abridged
When we would utter to our thought our being.
We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams,
And each to each other dreams of others' dreams.
Fernando Pessoa, 1918
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