NIGHT TERRORS

“Honey, could you do me a favor and run down to the basement and get me a bottle of pickles from the pantry?”

A sudden surge of anxiety rose in Carl’s innards. “Why,” he thought, “after so many years, could this still be a problem for me? After all, I’m 35 years old, married, successful, athletic, and in the prime of my life.”

Carl allowed his mind to float back into the distant swirling darkness of the past, ruminating quietly about a sad moment in his childhood. He took out his diary, a journal he had kept since early adulthood. He opened the notebook, picked up a pen and began to write, his method of self-directed psychotherapy.

— “I’m only seven years old, and should be a happy, laughing, carefree child. Unfortunately, that’s not the way my life is. It seems that the world is coming for me.

In school, I am picked on relentlessly. They seemed to have detected my fears and anxiety, and that is all bullies need when selecting their victims. My walk home from school is often a gauntlet of being slapped, pushed, insulted, and ridiculed. Even the teachers seem to have laughs about me.

My first cousin recently died of Hodgkin’s disease. I recall everyone in my family rushing to the hospital to donate something called platelets. It didn’t help. He died anyway. I really loved him. He was just a few years older than me.

Health issues seem to follow my family. My father developed severe abdominal pain last week and needed an emergency gall bladder operation. When he arrived home, he was proud to show me a bottle which contained numerous small stones. He mentioned that one of them got stuck and caused an infection that would have killed him without the surgery. That really terrified me. The stones were so small, yet they carried the ability to kill. What would they have done to a seven-year-old?

I also recently overheard my parents arguing and threatening to split up. That really frightened me. What would happen to me? Where would I go?

A few nights ago, I went to the movies with a neighborhood friend and his mother. We saw a science fiction movie called “The Fly.” I already had a phobia about insects, so I was nervous about the choice of movie. I remember the moment the woman suddenly pulls the hood off the scientist, revealing a huge fly head with bulging compound eyes and a claw instead of an arm. I remember curling up in fear in my chair, swooning with panic, as if the world were closing in from all sides. When I finally came home, I tried to describe the movie to my mother, but the feeling of fear was so intense that I couldn’t get the words out.

As I lay in bed at night, I have a clear view all the way down a dark hallway. There are many doorways in the corridor. Sometimes it seems like someone, or something, is peering out from the doorways, looking at me. I often see only one gleaming eye staring, studying me like an entomologist might examine a dead insect. It doesn’t matter if I pull the blanket up over my face. When I look again, the gleaming eye is still there.

Lately, something new has been happening. Almost every night, I dream about a family of creatures. They herald their appearance by causing a ringing sound in my ears, usually only one side or the other. Within about 10 seconds of the sound, the creatures appear. The initial wave of creatures almost always consists of a line of small yellow fluttering animals that I call “Butter Bites.” They come in a single file, usually about twenty in all, crawling and fluttering along on the floor towards me. If they would ever be allowed to get to me, they would tear me to pieces. The Butter Bites have razor-sharp teeth used to rip off chunks, like a school of piranha. Fortunately, they never get to me, because when I hear the warning sign of ringing in my ear, I immediately slam the door of my bedroom and hold it closed.

One of their most alarming and overwhelming powers is their ability to make their prey float up to the ceiling. They are able to climb easily, so the victim is helplessly immobilized there until the Butter Bites get there and initiate their attack.

The next level of creature, more powerful, appears similar but is larger, about twice the size, and black in color. I call these “Black Blutters.” They are much more dangerous and ferocious. Fortunately, they appear only rarely.

The most fearful and terrifying of all the creatures is called a “FeeFor.” These are large beings, at least six feet tall, and strangely, shaped like a tall, narrow, black valentine. They are armed with an extremely sharp, needle-like spear at their base, similar to a stingray, used to stab and impale their victims. The FeeFors are tremendously wild and violent, usually arriving by bursting through a window, totally unexpected, glass flying in all directions. Their arrival is sudden and dramatic, precipitating absolute pandemonium. You could say they are ambush attackers. Once they crash through a window, anyone and everyone is subject to attack. The only way to stop a FeeFor is to smash it over the head with a hammer.

If a FeeFor ever got into our house, my father would have to smash it. They are too big for me to handle.

For the past few months, many of these creatures have appeared in my dreams. Until yesterday, I was successful in holding them off. However, last night something horrifying occurred.

As I slept, I realized that there were numerous creatures scurrying around the hallway and even in my room. In my dream, I tried to scream for my parents, but I couldn’t generate any sound. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t scream. Nothing came out.

I suddenly woke up and looked around. All around me, in the hallway, and most importantly in my closet, there were pairs of glowing eyes staring at me. There I lay in my bed, paralyzed with fear. I wanted to scream for my parents, but I was too frightened. I remained lying on my back, trying not to move, hoping that they would just go away.

Unfortunately, that’s not what happened.

As I lay in my bed, I heard a scurrying sound at the doorway at the foot of my bed. Just then, something jumped up on my bed. It was a small creature, about the size of a chihuahua. After jumping up, it sat there near my feet, just staring at me. Its eyes were glowing, an eerie greenish yellow. For about 30 seconds, it sat and stared directly into my eyes. Then, it stood up and slowly walked toward me. I felt its weight on my legs as it advanced silently and gradually. It then sat down on my abdomen, continuing to glower with eyes like two oscillating, smoldering embers. It was too dark to visualize any other features. Only its eyes and its silhouette could be seen.

I remained frozen with fear, afraid to make even a small movement. I was too terrorized to scream or call for help, concerned that the slightest action on my part could precipitate an immediate attack. There were still numerous pairs of eyes gleaming from the hallway and from the closet, peering out at me. I intrinsically knew that I was no longer sleeping, and that all of this was occurring in wakeful reality.

After lying there for what seemed an eternity, I realized that I had to do something. I initiated a plan. My plan was simple but potentially very risky. On the count of three, I would suddenly lunge forward and try to grab the creature sitting on my abdomen by the neck, if it had one, pinning it to the bed and then calling for help. It was obvious to me that such a move could easily initiate an overwhelming attack from all sides, but it seemed like a risk I had to take. I really had no logical alternative.

In my mind, as I lay in bed, I started the countdown and prepared myself psychologically.

One… two… THREE!

As fast as I possibly could, I suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the creature, expecting to be severely bitten or worse. But as soon as my hands hit the target, the creature dissipated into a flurry of colors, and then nothing. At the same time, I heard rapid scurrying and retreat from the hallway and the closet, all around me, the creatures disappearing into the shadows.

I then finally screamed for my parents, who arrived in moments and hugged and comforted me. They turned on the lights, which made me feel much more secure, although still horribly shaken.

When I told them of the creatures and the dreams, the glowering green eyes staring at me, the ringing in the ears which heralded the attack of the Butter Bites, the more menacing Black Blutters, and, most dangerous of all, the greatly feared FeeFor, they told me that they were going to make an appointment for me to see a very lovely children’s doctor who would ask me about these things and talk to me about them.

Dr. Bernson was a sweet, warm man who carefully listened to my descriptions and stories, and explained to me that children often have vivid imaginations and can conger up these types of images and thoughts. He also spent a lot of time privately speaking with my parents, who seemed most interested in his advice.

It has been several months now, and the creatures seem to have let up on me. I still feel that they might come back, but for now, I have been sleeping much better, especially because of the numerous night lights positioned in my room and all throughout the hallway.

I suspect the creatures have retreated to the basement for now. I did peek down the cellar stairs last month and saw several pairs of greenish eyes peering back up. Perhaps we could lock the basement door.

Perhaps when I get older, I’ll be able to defend myself.”

-- Carl sat for a few minutes, his mind quietly reliving his own personal trauma. He then slowly closed the diary and headed for the basement. After all, his wife wanted a bottle of pickles.