The Mysterious Night Noise
We've all been there. It's late at night, and you're alone in bed. Maybe you've had trouble falling asleep, or maybe you woke up in the middle of the night. And you're fine. You're not too thirsty, you don't have to go to the bathroom, your alarm is still hours away from going off, it's nice and quiet, and all is right with the world. Then you hear a noise. It's a quiet noise, of something, you don't know what, but something either falling or moving or shuffling. You have no idea what, exactly, it is, or where exactly the noise came from, but one thing's for sure: It came from somewhere in the room. You heard it, it was quiet, yes, but not quite quiet enough for you to get away with telling yourself it was just in your imagination. You heard it. And although you know that, in the daylight or lamplight, the exact same noise would barely warrant a curious glance, it is now consuming every thought in your head. What are these thoughts? You rarely worry about anything concrete, like whether you remembered to lock the front door, or whether a squirrel somehow found its way into the house and is now in a vain search to find a way back out. No, in these circumstances, the same five thoughts occur to everybody:
1. "Is a part of my body dangling over the side of the bed?" The only positive aspect of this terrifying notion is that you'll never have to dwell on it for long, because you will be aware of it immediately, and whip your arm or leg onto the bed almost fast enough to break a bone from the sheer g-force. Here's something interesting: My bed rests directly on the floor, meaning that it's not held up by legs. There is absolutely zero room for any Under the Bed Monsters. Hell, not even any room for Under the Bed Tapeworms. But guess what? If I hear the Mysterious Night Noise, the knowledge that there's no room down there doesn't help me one bit. I'll still yank my arm or leg onto the mattress fast enough to break mach 2.
2. "Am I adequately protected by my blanket?" Ever notice how, even on the hottest night of the year, as you're lying in bed, miserably soaked in sweat, you'll still have a blanket? We all know it's not there in case you get cold. It's in case you hear the Mysterious Night Noise. Logic tells us that if there really is someone (or something) in the room that wants to do you harm, a blanket couldn't possibly provide any protection, but a knowledge more powerful than logic tells us that this is bullshit, that even the thinnest sheet carries with it a magical force field that will protect us from any creature, ghost, or intruder. "Oo, someone helpless in bed!" the evil force thinks, "An easy prey! Wait -- Damn, he's got a blanket! I am powerless!"
Different people will need different parts of their bodies covered to feel safe. For a lot of people, it's their feet, but for me, it's my knees. Why my knees? I have no idea. Apparently, the Mysterious Night Noise Monster that lurks in the fear center of my mind hates people who don't cover their knees with a blanket. As long as my knees are covered, I'm usually all set. It's only when the terror of the Mysterious Night Noise has been amplified by a nightmare or the memory of a horror movie that I'm required to cover everything up to and including my shoulders.
Here's a tip: No matter how scared you are, never, ever bring the blanket high enough to cover your head. Just don't cover your head, no matter what. Why? Because no matter how cold it is in the room, it is too hot to put your head under there, which means in a matter of mere seconds, you'll be dying to stick your head back out, but now you've got a new fear to worry about: "what will I see or (shudder) feel once I stick my head out from under this blanket?" And quickly you realize that whatever fear originally motivated you to stick your head under the blanket pales in comparison to this new thought. Trust me, whatever temporary relief you may have gained is not worth it.
3. "Should I look around in the dark to try to figure out what made the noise?" No, you shouldn't. I understand that your curiosity will make you want to take a quick, reassuring look around, but trust me, this is the wrong thing to do. Depending on your bedroom set-up, all you'll see is either pitch blackness or a lot of shadows. Neither view will do anything to allay your fears, and, in fact, it will only incite your imagination even further, because now you'll be wondering what you can't see.
4. "O.K., it's too dark to see anything, so should I turn the light on?" Maybe. Sometimes this works, but sometimes it backfires, because once the light is on, you can't turn it off again. You know that the fear will return with the darkness, stronger than ever, because now you've admitted to yourself that you were scared. You've given up the luxury of denial. In either case, turning the light on means you have to reach out to do so. Is it worth it? Do you really want to stick your arm out there? Who knows what lurks in the darkness?
5. "I'm too scared to reach out and turn on the light, but I have to do something." What's the natural impulse in this situation? If your impulse is to hum, laugh, speak, or whistle, fight this impulse with every ounce of your being. Why? Because as soon as you do this, you'll realize that the scariest thing in the world is the sound of your own voice in the absolute silence of a dark and still night. This shouldn't be, I know. It's your own damn voice, what could be more familiar than that? But trust me, speaking out loud is the last, last, last thing you should do if you're already scared of the darkness. I think a part of it goes back to the instinctual protection we all feel from denying our own fear. Yes, we are taught that denial of our own feelings is frequently destructive, but the cold reality is that when we are alone and scared in the darkness, the denial of our fear is the only thing that keeps us sane. Think all the comforting thoughts you want, but once you open your foolish mouth to utter an inane comfort like "it was probably just my coat falling off the chair," you're screwed. The denial of fear is gone, and all you've got left is the acknowledgment that yes, you are scared, and somehow that's the scariest thought of all.
You think is this is just an amusing "slice of life" blog entry? Try reading this just before you go to bed. Wait for everyone else to go to sleep, turn off the lights, lie down, and think about this blog long and hard. Pleasant dreams.
1. "Is a part of my body dangling over the side of the bed?" The only positive aspect of this terrifying notion is that you'll never have to dwell on it for long, because you will be aware of it immediately, and whip your arm or leg onto the bed almost fast enough to break a bone from the sheer g-force. Here's something interesting: My bed rests directly on the floor, meaning that it's not held up by legs. There is absolutely zero room for any Under the Bed Monsters. Hell, not even any room for Under the Bed Tapeworms. But guess what? If I hear the Mysterious Night Noise, the knowledge that there's no room down there doesn't help me one bit. I'll still yank my arm or leg onto the mattress fast enough to break mach 2.
2. "Am I adequately protected by my blanket?" Ever notice how, even on the hottest night of the year, as you're lying in bed, miserably soaked in sweat, you'll still have a blanket? We all know it's not there in case you get cold. It's in case you hear the Mysterious Night Noise. Logic tells us that if there really is someone (or something) in the room that wants to do you harm, a blanket couldn't possibly provide any protection, but a knowledge more powerful than logic tells us that this is bullshit, that even the thinnest sheet carries with it a magical force field that will protect us from any creature, ghost, or intruder. "Oo, someone helpless in bed!" the evil force thinks, "An easy prey! Wait -- Damn, he's got a blanket! I am powerless!"
Different people will need different parts of their bodies covered to feel safe. For a lot of people, it's their feet, but for me, it's my knees. Why my knees? I have no idea. Apparently, the Mysterious Night Noise Monster that lurks in the fear center of my mind hates people who don't cover their knees with a blanket. As long as my knees are covered, I'm usually all set. It's only when the terror of the Mysterious Night Noise has been amplified by a nightmare or the memory of a horror movie that I'm required to cover everything up to and including my shoulders.
Here's a tip: No matter how scared you are, never, ever bring the blanket high enough to cover your head. Just don't cover your head, no matter what. Why? Because no matter how cold it is in the room, it is too hot to put your head under there, which means in a matter of mere seconds, you'll be dying to stick your head back out, but now you've got a new fear to worry about: "what will I see or (shudder) feel once I stick my head out from under this blanket?" And quickly you realize that whatever fear originally motivated you to stick your head under the blanket pales in comparison to this new thought. Trust me, whatever temporary relief you may have gained is not worth it.
3. "Should I look around in the dark to try to figure out what made the noise?" No, you shouldn't. I understand that your curiosity will make you want to take a quick, reassuring look around, but trust me, this is the wrong thing to do. Depending on your bedroom set-up, all you'll see is either pitch blackness or a lot of shadows. Neither view will do anything to allay your fears, and, in fact, it will only incite your imagination even further, because now you'll be wondering what you can't see.
4. "O.K., it's too dark to see anything, so should I turn the light on?" Maybe. Sometimes this works, but sometimes it backfires, because once the light is on, you can't turn it off again. You know that the fear will return with the darkness, stronger than ever, because now you've admitted to yourself that you were scared. You've given up the luxury of denial. In either case, turning the light on means you have to reach out to do so. Is it worth it? Do you really want to stick your arm out there? Who knows what lurks in the darkness?
5. "I'm too scared to reach out and turn on the light, but I have to do something." What's the natural impulse in this situation? If your impulse is to hum, laugh, speak, or whistle, fight this impulse with every ounce of your being. Why? Because as soon as you do this, you'll realize that the scariest thing in the world is the sound of your own voice in the absolute silence of a dark and still night. This shouldn't be, I know. It's your own damn voice, what could be more familiar than that? But trust me, speaking out loud is the last, last, last thing you should do if you're already scared of the darkness. I think a part of it goes back to the instinctual protection we all feel from denying our own fear. Yes, we are taught that denial of our own feelings is frequently destructive, but the cold reality is that when we are alone and scared in the darkness, the denial of our fear is the only thing that keeps us sane. Think all the comforting thoughts you want, but once you open your foolish mouth to utter an inane comfort like "it was probably just my coat falling off the chair," you're screwed. The denial of fear is gone, and all you've got left is the acknowledgment that yes, you are scared, and somehow that's the scariest thought of all.
You think is this is just an amusing "slice of life" blog entry? Try reading this just before you go to bed. Wait for everyone else to go to sleep, turn off the lights, lie down, and think about this blog long and hard. Pleasant dreams.
posted by Movie Man at
12:10 AM
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