I have ALWAYS had a very healthy fear of the dark. I still remember being a little girl and flipping the light switch off, sprinting to stand under the next blazing light bulb as I made my way upstairs at night.
My first night home alone, I made the awful mistake of watching The Wizard of Oz. Oh you love that movie you say? So do I. However I was, and probably still am, horribly frightened by the witch and flying devil monkeys.
I was terrified to go near the back of the house – floor to ceiling, open windows to the woods out back. I was terrified to go near the front of the house – large windows with no blinds blocking the darkness from seeping in.
I stayed comfortably in the living room watching cartoons, huddled under a blanket, with every light bulb burning until my parents came home. I was probably clutching the family Bible for all I know.
I have matured, don’t worry. I can make it upstairs without the involuntary need to sprint. I can watch The Wizard of Oz without cowering in the corner (but that about ends it for me and “scary” movies – scarier than that and I don’t have great dreams – or make it upstairs slowly).
But I am still afraid of the dark – in a mature, adult way.
Except my fear of the dark is all the adult ways the dark can get you – when I’m home alone – without my security system Hubby to protect me.
Burglars. Every car door slamming is a gang of thieves jumping out and running through the dark towards my doors and windows.
Every creak or thud is not the dog, the heat, or the wind – it is a meth-induced robber stalking my TV.
I have run just about every scenario of home robbery through my head on nights when I am by myself – in the dark.
While it usually keeps me awake, heart beating through my eardrums, watching TV for the sake of noise, until Hubby returns home, and horribly tired the next day, there is an upside to the fear of dark I have.
If anyone ever tries to break into my house while my Buggy and I are sleeping, I have thoroughly, albeit mentally, run through about 500 scenarios in which you end up unsuccessful – shot by your own gun, bludgeoned to death with a lamp, arrested as you attempt to get into the room I have blockaded with piles of furniture, passing out from the dirty diaper can thrown as you climb the stairs. Trust me, my fear of the dark has given me a plan. And it doesn’t end well for you.
Maybe I used the term “healthy fear” incorrectly.