Spare Change/Double Scare

In honor of Halloween, I've been writing this month about different scary moments in my life, like the scary or weird dreams I've been having and my experiences at various "haunted houses."

I neglected to write last week because I was dealing with something that is far scarier to me than nightmares and fake frights; it's Change.  I found out I was going to be losing the job I have had for over four years.  While I had until December to find something else, it didn't deter the fact that I was going to be thrown back out into the job market.  Many of my family and friends were supportive and excited for me, reminding me to look at this as a good thing and to find something I was passionate about.

What I'm passionate about is a stable and predictable routine.  I had gotten so comfortable with working from home, doing the same menial tasks I have done for so long, that it outright terrified me that I would have to adjust and, dare I say it, actually try to do something that I went to school for and cared about.  

All the comments and questions emerged from my Voice of Insecurity.  What if no one wants you?  You don't have any skills.  What if all you can find are jobs that will make you miserable?  You're not going to be able to make any money.  What if you are not good enough?  These thoughts kept me up at night, socked me in my gut first thing in the morning, or came trudging forward like a freight train whenever I had a moment's peace.

Thankfully, I wasn't left twisting in the wind for too long.  I went on two job interviews and was offered both jobs.  The first was a non-salary insurance sales position and the other was a marketing and copy writing trainee position for a nutritional supplement company.  After considering it, I was excited to accept the trainee job, which will start in about a week.  There I hope to cultivate my research and writing skills, as well as increase my social and career possibilities.  I'm still nervous about starting something new, but as my new boss said, he wouldn't have hired me on the spot if he didn't think I could do it.  And he's right.  So I'm going to just stamp down the negative thoughts, have some faith in myself and my abilities, and tally forth.  

Well, that's all well and good, but that's no way to end a Halloween month of stories.  Here are the two freakiest things that have ever happened to me....(muah ha ha ha...)

1.)  The Crow

It was one of those rare afternoons when I was home all by myself- a special thing in a household of six. I was barely a teenager when I was flipping through the channels in my parents' bedroom, finally settling on Alfred Hitchcock's classic "The Birds".  It had already started but I decided to give it a watch, since I had heard about it so often.  I had just gotten to the scene when Tippi Hedren was hiding in the telephone booth as various birds slammed bloodily into the sides, when the station went to a commercial and I went downstairs for a snack.

As I perused the kitchen, I heard the sound of a loud tap coming from the dining room.  It wasn't totally steady, but it was unusual, not sounding like a tree branch.  I stepped into the room which had a wide glass window looking out to our front patio, and saw a big black crow perched on the banister outside.  I blinked hard and suddenly the thing took flight and once again made the loud rapping noise as it's beak made contact with the glass window.  I held my breath, terror shooting down my back and arms, when it repeated it's trajectory once more before finally giving up and flitting away.  

I ran back upstairs and quickly changed the channel.  I still have never seen the rest of "The Birds".

2.)  A Little Night Music

Back in college I was living with my girlfriends Ashley, Bethany and Tiffany.  We had semi-regular schedules back then, but once in a while, being music majors, one of them would be cramming and rehearsing for a performance they had to give as part of their grade, using the stereo to play music.  One night I was trying to fall asleep when I suddenly heard the sound of opera music coming from our living room.  It sounded as if it was getting louder and louder.

Grumpy from being kept awake, I remember wishing in my head that whoever was playing the music would turn off the stereo and go to bed already!  Just then, my wish came true, and I heard the music slowly quieting down to silence.  Relieved, I finally passed out.

The next day, after classes, I came home to the apartment and found Bethany sitting on the couch.  I said my usual hellos and she stopped me.

"Hey, was that you playing music on the stereo last night?" she asked.

"What?  No, wasn't it you?" I asked, confused.  It had been so apparent to me that the only culprit could've been one of us, I didn't even think to be scared.  As we discussed it further, we noticed the switch on the wall that controlled the stereo was in the OFF position.  And since none of had fiddled with it in a while, there was no way the stereo could've been on.

From then on, I welcomed the girls to play their music as often and as loud as they liked.

Ok, so let's hear YOUR scary stories!  And Happy Halloween, Guys and Ghouls :)

Houses on Not-So Haunted Hills

As I said before, I don't enjoy being scared.  I know people say there is a correlation between the pleasure and fear sensors in our brains but for me the only pleasure I derive from slasher flicks and roller coasters is when A.) tables turn on the masked murderer and they find themselves as the hunted, rather than the hunter and B.) I know the coaster is slowing down to a stop.  So I have a hard time understanding why people give their hard-earned money for the sole purpose of getting freaked out of their minds.

I might even understand the fun of some roller coasters (there are a few that I do enjoy) but what I can't understand are those seasonal haunted houses.  Who is watching a film about a serial killer wielding a chainsaw on the loose in an abandoned farmhouse and is thinking- 'Golly I wish I was there!  Wouldn't being chased by a madman in my skivvies be a gas??'  That's what those haunted houses are!  The only difference is when the madman comes up to and breathes down your neck, you're not allowed to fight back.  They tend to throw you out for that...

And yet, despite my aversion, I have found myself on several occasions on line for these "attractions".  Why you ask?  Well, because I don't pay attention and don't do my research.  And I think my friends enjoy watching me have an absolute panic-attack.

Which Witch is Witch
My very first experience with a haunted house was back in eighth grade when our class visited Boston.  We made a stop at Salem, MA to tour the city and visit the witch museum.  Surprisingly, I found it very interesting.  I was going through a very "New Age-y", Enya-listening, magical-forces phase so it was right up my alley.  I could feel the history of the town in the air and hearing the stories about the convicted women was heartbreaking but necessary.

Afterwards we were given a few hours to walk around by ourselves and my friends wanted to see a different "witch" museum.  We walked to this building that housed some witch-related artifacts and then led to a witch-themed haunted house.  I stood around looking at the odd drawings and pictures on the walls.  One held my attention and I remember staring at it more than the others.  It was an image of an attractive girl, her clothes tattered and falling off her.  She was tied to a stake that was engulfed in huge orange flames.  Below her, Satan was reaching out to her, grinning a sadistic smile, his hands close to her breasts, and the look of sheer terror on her face made me gulp hard.  This wasn't the image of an evil green warted hag that was getting what she deserved.  It was the face of innocence and injustice, a girl not much older than me being burned alive.  I know it was just a drawing, but I couldn't shake the fear that gripped my legs so when my friends giddily walked to the entrance of the house I begged off, saying I wasn't feeling well.  I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until finally they emerged, excitedly retelling their experience while I didn't say much at all.  Even though I didn't go through the house, I knew I wasn't my thing and I was ok with that.

Thankfully, I didn't have to confront it again, until many years later on my first trip to London...

The London Dungeons
My friend Ashley and I were absolutely ecstatic to be going to visit our friends Matt and Dave in their home country.  I was especially thrilled; being an English major and lover of history, I couldn't believe I was going to see such monuments as Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace.  I'm also fascinated by the dark history of London, so when the boys asked if we wanted to see the London Dungeons, I was all in.  They explained how it showed the history of Jack the Ripper and the Black Plague and more.  It wasn't until we were actually walking into it that I realized what I had gotten myself into.  There were no exhibits detailing the history of ancient punishments or documents in revered light.  We had ghouls coming up to scare us and screaming skeletons behind cellar doors.  Although we did get some history in- we actually heard the details of the Jack the Ripper murder case and saw replicas of various pain-inducing contraptions- and we did have a few light moments- like when Ash and I were put on "trial" in the section about London justice.  And because we were in a big group, I managed to keep my cool long enough to enjoy it as a bonding experience.

Penn State Penitentiary
Again, I agreed to go on this trip to Philly specifically because I had it in my head that it was going to be a nighttime tour of the prison.   My first indicator that this was NOT the case was the fact that there were people dressed up a little TOO much for just a tour.  As we boarded the buses to the penitentiary, it all dawned on me what we were about to do.  My heart sank and I seriously considered bolting to the nearest bar to wait it out.  But not wanting to embarrass myself, I would man up and and go through with it- and I did.  I also screamed my head off even when we were just on line, which basically created a giant target on my back.  For the next 30 minutes I had zombies and escaped inmates breathing down my neck and shoving their plastic weapons in my face. When it was finally over, my mind, my nerves (and my throat) were exhausted.

Busch Gardens "Dark Side of the Gardens"
Joe begged me to go to Busch Gardens for their Halloween celebration.  I still don't know how he managed to convince me, but I went along with it, thinking it was just going to be decorated with some spooky elements.  When we got there, we realized it was much more than that.  The park was almost completely unlit, with kids in dark clothes carrying shovels that they would slam on the ground to create a huge clatter of noise and sparks.  Other people were in high stilts and would come after you.  Basically, the entire park was one big haunted house.  I wanted to kill Joe.  He also wanted to go on the rides of course, so when I wasn't trying to dodge the attention of one of the actors, I was nervous about going on the roller coasters.  At one point, we were heading towards the biggest ride in the park and after getting surprised and screamed at by a bunch of extras, we realized too late that we were going the wrong way.  We had no choice but to back track the way we came.  After a few more pop-outs and screams, I had had enough.  I was wound tighter than the plastic tab on a loaf of bread.  I started yelling, "I'm here!  I'm frightened!  I'm just going to scream at everything!"  It turned out that moment of release was just what I needed- it calmed me down and it made Joe laugh harder than I had ever heard.

So if you invite me to attend some fall activities, such as pumpkin picking or a corn maze, I'll be there.  However, if you tell me we are going to visit the Lizzie Borden house, you'll forgive me if I do a thorough check on the address and a back-out plan.  I really don't feel like being chased by a pretend 30-something ax-wielding spinster.

How about you?  Are scary houses your thing? 

A Nightmare on Willow Avenue

Well, here you are October, my love/hate month.  Love, because I once again have the valid excuse to throw caution, calories and cash to the wind and buy bags of candy (to give to the little children, of course), as well as see the latest in slutty, trendy and politically incorrect costumes that people come up with.

Hate, because I HATE being scared.  I don't go out of my way to see scary movies, I will happily be the bag-holder instead of riding the Throat-Cutter roller coaster, and I usually fold up into a fetal position at those man-made haunted houses.  

I hate those kind of terror-inducing activities, however I am oddly fascinated with real-life horror.  I will watch documentaries about serial killers and actually love hearing people's true life scary experiences.  Maybe it's because it feeds into my love of stories in general, so while I'd cry at the parking lot "Haunted House" with its' plastic chainsaw-wielding out-of-work actor, I'd pour you another glass of wine to hear the details of how your bed was shaken while you were sleeping.

So, in honor of my dysfunctional relationship with this month, I'll be spending the next few weeks relaying my own Halloween-y stories.

Some might be freaky.  Some might be pathetic.  But they're all Wittie :)

Let's start with something that I've wanted to write about for months but I was waiting for this month to begin- nightmares.  I know we've all gotten them so there's nothing really special about that.  What IS weird is how frequently I've been having them and how intense they have been.  Since I moved down here to Florida, I can't help but notice that my nightmare-to-dream-to-nothing sleep ratio has gone from a pretty normal 1-2-4 to about a 4-1-2 (and no, this is not based on any kind of actual math or science-y research.  Just my own equation to explain what I'm talking about).  And in all of them I was so disturbed I woke myself up at least gasping and whimpering, and at worst screaming and thrashing.  Maybe it would be best for me to tell you what a few of these nightmares were about and you can tell me if I'm normal...or if I need a prescription for a padded room and chic straight-jacket.

1.)  The Spider.
I remember dreaming that there was a huge spider on the ceiling.  It crawled right above me and when it began to descend, I actually flung myself away and yelled out "Holy Hell!"  Joe, still half asleep, tried to grab me and said, "It's ok, it's ok!"  I muttered something about the spider and pointed to the ceiling.  "Honey, it's just the fire sprinkler," he said soothingly.  "I see it...the spider..I see it..," I said for a few more minutes as I stared manically at the spiky fixture.

2.)  The Half-Man.
There was this legless old man floating on the ceiling above me.  He was smiling but it terrified me.  Suddenly, he drifted down and was just about on top of me when I screamed and kicked out of the way, once again, terrifying Joe.

3.)  The Son of Sam: The Animated Series.
I was watching what looked like a dark cartoon version of the story about the "Son of Sam" killer, David Berkowitz.  He was staring out at me from this shabby apartment building.  Just staring and grinning this dark horrible grin.  Then he cut a word into his arm backwards but when I saw it, it read "Cecelia".  Somehow I knew that was the name of his next victim.  I then laid there, feeling myself stuck in conscious limbo, screaming behind my still lips and trying to wake myself up.  I tried to move my arms but they felt as thick and heavy as lead, and I tried to will my eyes open.  Finally, what I thought were screams were sad sighs issuing from my throat, until finally, once again, Joe woke me up.

4.)  The Nightmare that Wasn't.
Joe struggles enough just trying to get a good night sleep without the threat of being startled awake by my thrashing and shrieks; now the poor guy can't even get up to pee without my freaking him out. I must've been in the middle of some kind of dream when Joe stood up from the bed and walked around to my side to go to the bathroom.  It was at that moment that my eyes fluttered open to see a large black mass standing near me.  I screamed (are you seeing the pattern?) and hurled myself away while he jumped back a bit and then, once again, reassured me that everything was ok.

5.)  The Wolf and the Soup.
I mentioned this one on Facebook already, but it was so odd, it bears mentioning again.  I was in a suburban neighborhood, one that felt familiar except this time it was Fall.  The trees were mostly bare or else the leaves that clung on were brown and withered.  The houses were different too- broken windows and collapsing walls.  I walked into a cul-de-sac and was glancing around at the forest beyond the houses, sipping a bowl of soup, when a grey wolf with blue eyes appeared behind a shed. It scared me, but I remember thinking I wasn't supposed to be scared.  Still, I began to run, feeling it begin to chase me.  I put the soup down hoping to distract it, when it was suddenly upon me.  I woke up then, sweating with fear but bewildered by the vivid images and crisp details.

I don't know what my subconscious is trying to tell me- why do I almost always have animals or insects in my nightmares?  Why are things on the ceiling always falling down on me?  It's fascinating what the mind conjures up and I do love to read about dream interpretations, even if sometimes they mean nothing.  Still, I find myself now fearing sleep, which sets up anxiety right before I end up falling asleep, which is probably why the nightmares keep happening!  Vicious cycle.  (Meanwhile, I think Joe is ready to invest in some Nyquil and restraints for me).

But, all I can do is hope for one good dream to wake up from and then maybe that will break the spell.  So on that hopeful note, I bid you...good night.

*And if you have any really odd or scary dreams in the past that you can't shake, tell me about 'em!  Always room for more in my nut house :)