I was afraid of the dark when I was little.
Actually, I am still sort of afraid of the dark.
Not all the time. Not dramatically. But if I let loose the dogs of my imagination after sunset, things can get complicated fast.
During the day, imagination is useful.
It helps me write books. It invents characters. It solves plot problems. It asks “what if?” and then runs with the answer.
But at night, imagination changes jobs.
At night, it points toward the closet and whispers, “Have we discussed that shadow?”
That is why I have to keep those dogs on a tight leash when the sun goes down.
Otherwise, sleep becomes difficult.
Childhood Fears and Long Hallways
Childhood fears are pretty universal.
Monsters under the bed.
Dark closets.
Strange shadows.
Long hallways that seem much longer at night than they do in daylight.
I did not know those fears were common when I was little. It is not like I ran into my siblings while making that panicked dash to my parents’ room at two in the morning.
Nope.
That hall was long, lonely, and filled with ominous shadows.
During the day, of course, the same hall was harmless.
The same bedroom was safe.
The same closet was just a closet.
And the space under the bed was familiar territory.
The Trouble With Under the Bed
The sibs and I crawled around under the bed all the time.
We hid there.
We played there.
We accumulated dust bunnies there.
We got in trouble for those dust bunnies there.
I knew almost every square inch of under my bed.
But when the sun sank in the West, everything changed.
Under the bed became alien territory.
The closet became suspicious.
If I forgot to close the closet door before getting into bed and only noticed after the lights went out?
Trauma time.
Then came the math.
How far from the bed was safe?
How much distance did I need between my feet and whatever might live under there?
Could I leap far enough?
What was the ideal speed for outrunning the unknown?
I may not have understood the physics of short legs, bed height, landing radius, and hallway velocity, but I felt them.
This may explain my lifelong distrust of math.
Closets, Nightmares, and Bear-Mares
It should surprise no one that under the bed and closets showed up in my nightmares.
So did long hallways.
So did the desperate race to my parents’ room and safety.
It did not help that my brothers enjoyed feeding my fears.
Brothers can be wonderful.
They can also be chaos with elbows.
Then there was the bear.
I had a close encounter with a bear when I was young. Looking back, it was benign. At the time, my imagination filed it under “Things That Can Eat Me.”
A healthy respect for bears is sensible. They are beautiful and powerful, and they are best admired from a safe distance.
But after that encounter, bears invaded my dreams.
My family called them my bear-mares.
Which sounds cute now.
It was not cute at two in the morning.
The Gift and Trouble of Imagination
When I got older, I began to understand the benefits of a vivid imagination.
A big imagination can make the dark feel crowded.
But it can also build worlds.
It can turn fear into suspense.
It can turn a hallway into a scene.
It can turn the thing under the bed into a story question.
What is under there?
Why is it there?
What does it want?
Can it be reasoned with?
Does it have snacks?
That is the odd gift of imagination. It does not always behave, but it gives us material.
Why I Still Close the Closet Door
Even now, I have to be careful when I let those dogs of imagination off the leash.
They are much better behaved in daylight.
At night, when I am tired and alone and the closet door is open just a crack, they still like to run away with me.
So I have rules.
Close the closet door.
Do not stare too long into dark corners.
Do not read or watch scary things right before bed.
Do not let the brain start building a committee of shadows.
And never underestimate the protective power of covers.
I know covers are not technically magical.
But also, they are clearly magical.
This is settled science in my house.
What about you?
Do echoes of childhood fears still flicker in your brain at night?
Do you have a closet-door rule?
A covers rule?
A no-scary-stuff-after-dark rule?
I would really like to know because yes, covers are powerful, but sleep is important.
I need the sleep.