When I dared to open my eyes at night the bedposts came to life, as dark faceless creatures come to steal my soul. There was an ax murderer living in my closet just 2 feet from where I should have been sleeping, had I been able to sleep in the face of my violent impending death. To hide from the demon under my bed I curled up in the fetal position, making sure that not a single toe hung over the side, because that would have made me fair game. A menacing enormous chinese dragon kite lived in my bathroom. The active imagination that gives me so much pleasure as an adult was a curse as a child. I was utterly terrified of the dark. Perhaps because of all of the potential dangers it was harboring, even though the rational adult in me does not believe any of those things are present.
While I don't have an abject fear of the dark now I still have an aversion to it. In fact, I still sleep with the light on in the hallway if I am by myself. It's not really monsters and murderers that have me spooked. It is the void. It is the loneliness. Because in the absolute darkness there is nothing but myself, and that is not enough. I enjoy small bursts of quality quiet time alone, in fact as an introvert I require it. But the dark is oppressively lonely to me. As I've grown and become more comfortable with myself I've lost some of the fear. That does not mean that I won't check behind the shower curtain every day, just in case.
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