“What I’m Afraid Of”
I remember being terribly afraid of burglars and house fires. Nearly every night I’d lie in my bed and imagine what I might do if someone were to break into our house or if the whole place simply caught fire. I slept with a lead pipe under my bed that – by the time I finally got around to repainting and rearranging my room a few years ago – had made a permanent indent in the carpet. Its hollow end was filled with spider webs. I remember imagining scenarios where I’d hide behind my bedroom door, pipe grasped firmly in hand, just waiting for the perfect moment to spring out and surprise the burglar with a shot to the head. (A shot that, in reality, wouldn’t have had much impact at all judging by the weight of the bar and my ability to lift it). In the case of a fire, I’d imagine myself climbing onto the short porch outside my bedroom window and jumping to safety as the flames engulfed all my belongings. In some of these scenarios I saved my dog and – when I had one – my hamster.
While these phobias plagued my nights as a child they did, however, instill in me a great love that I still hold in my heart to this day – rain. Particularly the heavy kind with maybe even a little thunder and lightning added into the mix. My logic being that no one is stupid enough to go out and rob a house in the rain. They’d get soaked. And if my house were to spontaneously combust, the falling rain would surely put it out. Nights when it rained hard and fast and for a long time were peaceful for me. I slept well. I still do.
And although I’ve pretty much worked through these phobias, I still believe I sleep best on those rainy nights when the streets are slick, my driveway is mud, and I can hear the drops on my roof like a metronome or the beating of my heart, lulling me to sleep.
Copyright by Scott Neumyer
