Fear Comes Into My Room

Trying to Sleep at Age Eight:  “Fear Comes Into My Room”

Fear creeps along the floor of my bedroom so he will not be seen too soon.  I know he is there because he has been in my room before, but I cannot see him at all.  I listen for the sounds which would tell me someone else in the house is awake, but I hear none, not from my dad, not even from the cat.  As midnight is past, Fear is free to do as he will.

Nothing happens for some minutes.  Fear is waiting for the necessary invitation.  I do not want to invite him, but we both know I will eventually do it.  It is not a matter of asking Fear to come.  It is a legal matter; once I think any thought that belongs to him, he will exercise his right to come after it.  He never waives his rights.

As I grow tired, my mind wanders away from the games played at recess and into a succession of images from television, which enter my mind involuntarily.  A leaf covered path winds through oak trees in early autumn as the sun sinks fast.  I hear wind in the treetops.  Some leaves rustle nearby, and I think I hear someone calling me.  I sense someone is behind me.

I feel a sudden thump on my bed.  Mom has told me it is from my own heart, or is a false perception.  She said it just means I am in the process of falling asleep, but I know that’s not true.  It is Fear.  He seems very old and does not like me.  I know he will not go away until he receives his property, but I am in a cold sweat, and I cannot let it go until I sleep.  Fear is a patient stalker, so he waits in silence.