Are You Afraid of the Dark? (Or, Longest Post Ever)

Whenever I am asked what I am afraid of, one thing comes immediately to mind: the dark.

I don't know what it says about me that I think of a dark closet in a dark room before I think of a bloodthirsty mugger attacking my husband, but there you have it just the same. Sorry, honey.

To this day, if I know Joel is going to be home late at night, I cannot will myself to go to bed alone. I always end up falling asleep on the couch with the TV keeping a steady stream of flickering light going. Ok, I'm lying. I'm never that brave. A lamp always has to keep the TV company. So yes. I, a grown woman and mother of two, am helplessly reliant on a little 60-watt bulb. I don't know what this says about me, either.

I can never remember a time in which I wasn't afraid of the dark, or the purported things in it. I remember reading a book long ago when I was a child called "The Ankle Grabber". The book really isn't that scary but the whole idea terrified me. I had an ankle grabber under my bed for years after that (later it was big, nasty snakes). This is when I mastered the turning-off-the-light-and-runningly-leaping-into-bed-in-two-seconds-flat approach to going to bed.

When I was nine years old I went to a birthday party of a girl down the street. They showed Jurrasic Park at the party. I knew I wasn't allowed to watch it, but I rationalized that I would close my eyes during the scary parts. You can guess how well that worked. I watched it, told myself it wasn't that scary, and promptly went home and lied by omission to my parents about watching the movie.

For days months years I was terrified of velociraptors. I had horribly mean parents who decided to let me live in a cold basement room with no windows and doors to two, count 'em, TWO storage closets. I would lay awake at night, peering through the dark at the brass doorknobs. Haunted chills would creep up and down my spine as I just knew they were turning. . .turning. . .turning, a very hungry predator lurking behind.

I eventually became scared enough that I figured I should come clean with my parents. For one thing, I felt guilty for lying, and for another, I hoped that once I cleared the air on my deception, my nightmarish thoughts would find their way to some obscure box in the back of my mind.

It didn't work. Those stinkin' velociraptors haunted me for a long, long time. I had numerous velociraptor nightmares, including one I remember all too vividly that involved me cowering under my bed while four velociraptors tore through the top of the mattress to get to me. Thankfully I awoke seconds before their dagger-like claws reached my face.

Then, when I was in college, I saw the movie The Ring with some friends. I'm quite belated in saying this, but if you haven't seen this movie, DON'T. Just. . .don't do it. It creeped me out for a long, long time after that. I enjoy suspensful movies, but I do not enjoy movies that leave me with an unnerving, evil, creepy feeling. Joel laughs at me for being scared about that movie. And I say sure, I have no idea why I'd be a little creeped out by some crazy girl with a half-rotted face that climbs out of a well and through your tv screen, only to kill you by looking at you. Oh, and your corpse will have the same rotted face she does, and anytime someone finds your dead body, hair-raising music will start blasting from the background. Oh, and there's no way to stop her, see, because actually she's already dead, and can come out of radios and tvs and find you anywhere you go. And, you know, can move around all terrifyingly and abnormally, and has super-strength. Even Superman would be hiding and sobbing like a little girl.

Excuse me while I go retrieve my eyeballs. I think I rolled them right out of my head and under the refrigerator. That was a pretty weak-sounding synopsis.

The premise aside, this movie is still creepy. Thank you, cinematic artists, thank you for that. I owe you You owe me one.

If Joel is still listening by the time I finish explaining to him that this movie is indeed terrifying and impossibly terrifying, oh, and did I mention terrifying? He will say to me:

"Well, it doesn't sound all that bad, see, because it's NOT REAL. You know, pretend? Like, as in, she doesn't exist?"

Hmph. He has no sense of reality. Because, you know, obviously I'm the sane one here.


Now, when I am alone at night, I find that I have lost the ability to direct myself to bed until about 1 in the morning, when I am tired enough to go through with it. I'll make my rounds, ensuring that the door is locked and no gas is leaking from the stove. I'll go into my room and turn the closet light on, then return to the hall to flip off the light outside my room. Sometimes my closet light is enough, but sometimes I also need to turn on the lamp in our room. Then, I'll have to take a book to bed with me. If I don't, I have no choice but to lay there and think about all the things that could be lurking around in the dark areas of my apartment, and then consider the possibility of Joel's plane crashing or some random murderer coming to his hotel room.

About the time I've planned out Joel's funeral, where I'll be living when I'm forty, and how I'll be keeping up with the kids' expenses, I'll fall asleep.

Now, in case you've made it this far (whew!) through my fraidy cat history, I submit:

The How To Go To Bed List If You Are Also a Scaredy:

1. Don't ever turn off a house light if you will have to walk across a dark room. Just. Don't. Do it.

2. Never have the blinds open when it is dark outside. All those masked murderers, thieves, and creepy things will be able to see you from outside and know your exact wherabouts in the house. Don't say I didn't warn you.

3. Make sure you always keep a light on in your room, preferably in the closet (don't think this means you can still leave that door open). Because we all know that the scariest things come out of the closet.

4. If, for some reason, you get in bed and realize you forgot to turn on the closet light, and if, for some reason, you forgot to close the closet door, it's too late. Forget it, stay in bed, face away from the closet, and pull up the covers. To go anywhere now is just asking for it. And whatever you do, do not look at the closet.

5. If you wake up and have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, first consider what it would be like to put your foot on the cold, dark, floor, right next to that dark space under the bed. Then consider what it will be like to walk into another dark area. Then, realize that you're better off staying in bed. If your bladder feels like it has swollen to the size of a pick-up truck, it's still better to keep safe in bed than risk certain, terrifying death.

6. If your kids wake up during the night, they're out of luck. You're stuck cowering under the blankets. If something happened to you, what would happen to them?


You're welcome. If by some miracle of perseverance you've made it this far, do you have anything to add?