I left 40 minutes early to get to my training session last night, so eager to make a good impression and pretend like I really cared about whatever a Bugaboo is.
I caught the wrong tram. I realised too late, had to catch the tram back and then I caught another tram. This tram did indeed take me to Burwood Road, but only 100 - the number I wanted was more like 800. I started walking, getting later and later all the time, when I noticed a train line directly behind the street. I caught the train for two stops, got off and found myself in a completely different suburb.
By this stage I was 40 minutes late and I gave up and came home.
I didn't dream last night, but I stayed awake for too long staring at the dark shapes in my room. Without my glasses (which I never wear) I can barely see anything in the dark, but my imagination fills the blanks. The black kimono hung up on the back of my door turned into a long-haired ghost glaring at me and waiting to pounce. The radiator resembled an immensely fat metallic caterpillar gobbling up the shoes and books on the floor.
I pulled the blankets up close and surveyed the room with a sort of frightened intrigue - I have always been afraid of the dark to some degree.
When I was little, I used to imagine that ghosts, monsters, murderers, robbers or whatever was lurking in my room could sense fear. I would go out of my way to appear normal and asleep when really I was terrified. One night as an 8 year old, I was reading Oliver Twist when I was sure that I saw something moving near the far corner of my bed. I was so scared that I just kept reading, pretending not to have noticed, trying not to give myself away. I finished the book in a couple of hours and then was struck with a problem - what was the 'normal' thing to do? I read the whole book again. The whole time I was sweating like crazy and the room started really smelling bad. Not like body odour, but like burnt toast. Is this the smell of the fear of an 8 year old girl?
Eventually a huge salamander jumped on my window, causing me to scream and go tearing down the hall to my parents room.
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3 comments:
Hi! It's easier to forget the terror of being a kid when you grow up! I used to find the more I stared at the toys in my room the more they seemed to move! I never had a night light, either!
Haha.. if that is the mark of growing up, then I guess I'll forever be a child. My imagination does strange things when presented with any sort of stimulus.
If it's any consolation...
One night when I was 10-years-old and was playing hand-puppets (yes, hand-puppets; you at least sound more glamorous and mature reading Oliver Twist) prior to going to bed, I was sure I saw something moving near the far corner of my bed. I pretended it wasn't there and kept playing. Then it stung me!
... It turned out to be a scorpion.
Only in the peculiar state of Texas would you come across a scorpion on your own bed.
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