As
I stand in present day I can see myself, so at peace with all nations,
hypnotized in what may be the most comfortable sleeping conditions the world
has ever seen, ignorant in my bliss; like a lamb to the slaughter. I lay in bed,
the sheets loosely covering me, with a down blanket that is somehow cool but
intensely warm. A gentle breeze whispered across my face. If this moment had a
song it would be gentle, peaceful classical music. Then suddenly my world
changed. Everything stopped. The beauty and magic of the quiet sleep - my quiet
sleep - was ruined so quickly that I could feel it as it was ripped from my
soul. It stopped in a minute, a second,
an instant. It stopped with the slow, creeping, crawling footfalls, so light
they were barley perceptible but nonetheless earth-shattering, of the stinkbug
that has landed on my face.
With
the horrifying realization that a bug had just walked across my face I am
jerked out of my heaven. Hands flying everywhere, faster, faster, I desperately
try to put as much distance as possible between the monster and me. I leap out
of my bed, throwing my covers, and dash to the light. My hands shake like a
crack addict as a fumble around for the light switch. But when I look to the
bed, to kill the creature that has dared to invade my space, it is gone.
Disappeared. And in that moment I know that I will never be safe again.
Now
I am confronted with a choice; possibly the hardest one I will ever have to
make. The bright light burns my eyes, and I realize that it is 3:30 a.m. Do I
stay up all night, sitting, waiting for the bug to resurface? Or can I be a man
and layback down in the monster’s lair, never knowing what will crawl out of my
bed sheets next. I choose to be brave. With a prayer I regretfully turn off the
light, plunging my room back into darkness, and lay back down in my prison.
My
home, my sanctuary, is gone. The difference between this moment and just a few minutes
before is unreal. What had once been a sacred space is now ruined and vanished
forever. Never again will I feel safe in my once beloved bed. I lay, looking up
at the ceiling, cloaked in darkness, with the paranoia of a Hitchcock victim.
Every brush of my hair is a spider, and the once gentle breeze is now a swarm
of gnats ready to attack. In a moment like this it is impossible to sleep; all
I can hear is my heart thumping in my chest, and my eyes cannot stay closed
long. They flash open at the first rustle of a paper, fearing that the worst is
coming, but all they see is the inky blackness that has corrupted my room.
Not
only am I different, but my room itself has changed with me. Before the
invasion, the darkness used to be comforting. It was a blanket: the blackness
surrounded me and made me feel safe. I trusted the darkness because it had
never told me not to, and in turn it sheltered me. It blurred away the dark
shadows and creepy monsters of my childhood, and provided a black cocoon of
darkness to sleep within. Children fear the dark because it is unknown, so
their imaginations fill in the blank space with innumerable terrifying creatures.
They keep lights on to keep away the monsters. But as children grow up, the
fear of darkness fades from their minds. It becomes a state of comfort, where
the ambiguity and emptiness block the harsh realities of the world as it is in
the cold light of day. But yet, in the moment that that beast landed on my
face, I was reverted back to a childlike phase. The truce I had made with
darkness, that if it showed that it was safe and that there was truly nothing
in it to be feared, I would in turn stop fearing it, was broken. Suddenly, in the expanse of blackness that I
looked into, there could be any number of creatures, hiding in night’s shadows,
waiting to strike.
Honestly,
as I write this essay it is scary to dive back in, and remember the terror that
I felt that night. Once more I feel a cold sweat, and anxiety overtakes
me. To some, the incident with the bug
would not make them think twice, but for me it is a symbol of broken trust.
That one seemingly insignificant event, destroyed my belief, destroyed my sense
of safety, as it plunged me away from my home. Though in the physical sense it
remained unchanged, my sanctuary will never quite be the same. The trust that I
felt in darkness is now corrupted. Eventually, as I began to move beyond this
experience, the feeling of security gradually returned. But yet, somewhere
lurking in a dark corner of my mind is the knowledge that somewhere, lurking in
a dark corner of my room, is a monster. It is waiting, hidden in the darkness.
And it knows, that I know, that I will never see it coming.
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