When I was a kid I used to have a recurring dream everynight. A terrible scary dream that my husband never fails to tease me about. In it I climb out of bed in a nightgown. I am about four and I hate slipping my feet on the cold hard wood floor. Across from me the white curtains are billowing in the breeze at the window while flashes of lightning streak the sky behind them. The soft rumble of thunder seem louder in the quiet house as I tip toe toward the window. I mean simply to close the window and return to bed. A fear grips me as I get closer, hearing a slight rasping sound and feeling the soft wind on my cheek. I reach out to pull back the curtain and hesitate. My heart is beating in my chest. I need to close the window but I seem to be paralized with fear. Finally I call upon all the courage in my young body and thrust the curtain to the side.
Sitting on the window sill with his head cocked slightly to the side and that evil grin of his sits The Count, you know the one from Sesame Street. I know most people don't think The Count is scary. In fact many even find the guy cute! I however do not, have not, and probably never will. As far as Sesame Street goes he's the closest thing to a bad guy they've got and I've always been tuned to the good vs. bad idea of entertainment. I know you're thinking "what about the grouch?" but honestly I always thought he was harmless and kinda cute (that I'm sure would explain quite a few of my former relationships and their appeal to me should it be psychoanalyzed or something). However, back to the story, I would see The Count sitting there and he'd grin manically and say "One little girl, Ah ah ah." And I would wake screaming my head off every time. Often ending up in bed with my parents if I was brave enough to leave my bed to get to them through the dark hallways that is.
I mean seriously, he's a puppet made to resemble the Count of Dracula, and talks all spooky. Why wouldn't an impressionable child be scared of him? I started watching Sesame Street when I was like three or something and I've been scared of that dude for as long as I can remember. I know I should have stopped being scared of the dreams as I grew up, and even though it's true that they did lessen in frequency, they did not lessen in how terrifying they where. As a teen I did not run to my mommy in the night, but I did wake up in a sweat and have to calm down before going back to sleep.
Now I tell you all this to talk about last night.
Last night I was up late reading, really not a shocker since this is one of my new favorite things to do. I was glad I was reading too because a huge storm had rolled in and kept waking up Lola. I would by far rather get up to calm her when I'm already awake then be woken. I like me my sleep when I get around to it. Anyway I was laying there and had finished my fun light-hearted book that in no way resembles my actual life and took me away from adult cares for a few hours. I turned off my light and curled up under the covers. It was at this time that there was a flash of lightening and a surge of power that sent all our electric things wonky. They were all fine, but it startled me and forced me to look around a little. I am the curious type after all.
I glanced up at our window and noticed the curtains were moving. Not a lot but softly from the breeze the fan was making. Not a big deal right? Yet I felt a familur fear pull at my guts. Then a flash of lightning behind the curtains confirmed it. In that flash I saw all my old dreams cross my vision as I sat in my large bed with a sleeping husband and two kids sleeping in the other room. The eerie feeling of the loud quiet (I know that's weird to say, but you know when the quiet seems to be pressing on your ears until it's almost as loud to you as a scream? That's a loud quiet.) obvious as I stared transfixed at the softly floating curtains and the flashes of lightning behind. "Why, oh why, did I choose to put up white curtains?" I thought to myself as I shrunk farther away from them and closer to Jeff. I could feel my heart pounding and at any moment I knew that The Count would jump out and say "One freaked out woman. Ah ah ah." Or something.
Only of course he didn't. Because I am a grown woman and was sitting on my bed in my home with the alarm on and no reason for a quiet room to be freaking me out. Boy am I glad Jeff slept through that and I resisted the urge to wake him up. I so never would have heard the end of it.
2 comments:
That is a well-told tale. I like the subtle touches -- the slight rasping sound, the soft breeze. You build up to the big reveal well. :-)
One minor correction -- and this is a trivial thing -- but technically you should say he's based on "Count Dracula," not "the Count of Dracula." Dracula was the dude's actual name. As far as landholdings go, I think he was Count of Wallachia, or something equally silly.
Hilarious! And very descriptive writing, too. I could totally picture you in our old room walking toward the window on a stormy night. I had a few creepy dreams about that window, too.
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