� 2001-2006 by Shiloh
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Now, as a mom, an aunt and long time daycare provider, I've learned that all kids have some kind of irrational fear brought on by the combination of their own wild imaginations and/or misunderstandings of something an adult has said and am amazed at how common some of them are... (i.e. monsters in the closest, killer dust bunnies under the bed, etc.)
Do you remember what you were afraid of when you were a little child? What brought it on? How did you deal with it?
Run! Run!
No, the other way! To your left!
Faster! Faster! Don't look back! They can catch you if you look back.
Turn right, now! There's a building with a dark recess to hide in. Do it! Hug the brick wall; make yourself small and invisible as possible in the darkness. The shadows can be your friends.
Don't make a noise. Even your slightest breath or shifting of weight might be heard. You don't want them to hear you.
That's it, keep still till they have passed. Don't let your fear betray you. They feed on your fear and terror.
They're coming! You can sense their closeness, feel the evil emanating from them and reaching out for you like ghostly white tendrils of eerie mist creeping over land at night. They continue their search for you, their quarry, drawing ever nearer.
Pray. Pray that night will conceal you in its shadows as you tremble violently in your hiding place. Pray they can't hear the pounding of your heart as its terrified rhythm clogs your throat and beats wildly in your ears until you can hear nothing else. Pray for deliverance.
Shutting your eyes will not help. It won't make you invisible or make them disappear. Don't whimper; bite your lip! They'll hear you!
Too late. They know your hiding place now. Run! That's it, run to an open space! Run! Run! They're catching up! Give it all you got!
Why are you slowing down? Or are they just getting faster? RUN! They're just feet behind you! Move it, slow poke! The one in the lead just about got you by the arm.
Sinister laughter fills the night, sending frissions of horror and doom skittering across your nerve-endings. There's a street light up ahead. If only you can make it to its flourescent circle of safety, they won't dare harm you.
Run harder! Faster! It's only several feet away! You can make it! Why aren't you moving? You're just running in place! Move!
But you can't. You're caught now. The leader has you by your hair, jerking you close, intending harm...
Blinking, your eyes adjust to the early morning darkness and begin picking out the lighter outlines of your room and things within. You're not on an abandoned street, fighting to make your way to a street lamp before a gang of murdering thugs catch you. You're in your own room, safe and sound.
Knowing that, though, doesn't make the fear totally disappear. Someone could be lurking, unseen, in your room, your overactive imagination tells you. Snapping your eyes shut tightly, you pull the covers over your head and pull your hand in again.
Maybe, if you completely burrow under the covers the scary things will leave you alone.
I can sometimes take control of zee nightmare. I can willfully run away, dodging my evil pursers, tracing a maze-like route to put as much distance between them and myself as possible. I can dodge bullets quickly, or I can maim the one who would hurt me enough that I have time to get away before the chase is on.
Back then, as a kid, the sheer fear invoked by a nightmare had enough power to jolt me awake. Even after the nightmare had faded from my child's mind, the fear lingered from my overactive imagination and was strong enough to stay with me through the rest of the night...or until I managed to fall asleep again.
I dunno what is about hiding under the covers that makes us think we can disappear or that anything scary or menacing has lost the ability to harm us. But that's what I always did, when I was really shaken by a bad dream. I made myself a lil cocoon of blankets, curling myself into a ball within and not coming out until I was prodded by Mom or Dad telling me it was to get up for school. It just seemed like I was hidden from the bad, scary things my imagination conjured.
* A P-O-Y entry.
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