Actually, I still am sort of afraid of the dark. If I let loose the dogs of my imagination? Yeah, totally terrified. When the sun goes down, I have to keep those dogs on a tight leash.
Otherwise they make a good night’s sleep impossible, either by keeping me from it or invading my dreams.
Childhood fears are pretty universal, hence movies like Monsters, Inc and books about the stuff lurking under the bed, though I didn’t know that until I got older. It’s not like I ran into my sibs while making that panicked dash to the parents room at two a.m. Nope, that hall was long, lonely and filled with ominous shadows.
Fears totally absent during the day when all appeared harmless, even safe.
For instance, the sibs and I would frequently crawl around under the bed. Hiding. Playing. Accumulating dust bunnies. Getting in trouble for those accumulations. Despite knowing almost every square inch of under my bed, when the sun sunk in the West, under the bed became alien territory. Same with the closet. If I forgot to close the door and had to get out of bed in the dark? Trauma time!
And then there was the math!
Pauline Baird Jones
Perilously romantic fiction for armchair adventurers
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