Today I was floating around blogland. I came across M.E.'s blog which got me to thinking.
Yes, here I go again.
My question today is:
When you were growing up, were there any scary elements in your bedroom that you remember to this day?
I have two - one silly and normal and the other, not.
The first is the nightmare of getting bitten at night.
It started after my room was getting done over once I became a "tween". My Dad let the rolled rug drop and it busted a hole in the wall.
Instead of patching it up, they put panelling over it.
Always had a cold spot there, but no ghosts.
What triggered the nightmares were sounds. I'd hear mice/squirrels/chipmunks (never knew which) scritching and scratching in the walls. Scurrying to and fro as though searching.
I swear they'd always find , The Spot.
My worst fears were that they'd gnaw through and attack me.
I would lay there, listening, following their direction with my ears. Feeling the sweat pore off of me as I hid under the covers.
I was very imaginative back then.
Prior to that, my nightmares were in a more otherworldly venue.
When we moved into the old farm house, I finally had my own room.
It was on the outskirts of the city so we had woods in the back.
That first night, I woke up and walked over to my window. It was high up in the wall, so I had to step onto a chair so I could see out.
There, before me, was a parade of circus animals, all bright, cheery, exotic and beautiful.
The problem was, they were leaving.
I had the distinct impression that happiness was leaving my new home.
A physical sensation pressed upon me that hope and easy times were abandoning me.
Obviously, being a 5 year old, it was a dream. A realistic dream in the mind of a child.
However, that was the start.
Remember, it was an old farm house. Over one hundred years old. An old house can be drafty, settled at odd angles and prone to providing plenty of ammo for an imaginative and fearful child.
This is the second: The haunting
I had my own closet with a thick, heavy door painted white.
Back and forth. Just a inch in, just an inch out.
Silently, smoothly , it moved.
I never imagined monsters in the closet like most kids you read about. No.
The door was the monster.
I would stare at it, willing it to stop. Or start. Depending on what frame of mind I was in.
Will I be brave tonight?
It didn't do it all the time mind you, but I could never figure out a pattern.
After all these years, I doubt I could have.
Did it really move?
Did I really see it?
I believe so.
When my parents had done over the room for me, they replaced the door with one of the new, lightweight hollow doors that are popular now.
Since then, and I will tell you - I stared for hours, for days - the new door never moved.
Not a millimeter.
So, was the door haunted? Your guess is as good as mine.
I still remember that my bedroom was not the haven most girls rooms are said to be.
How was yours?