Are you afraid of the dark?

This time of year can mess with my mind! Sometimes it’s exhaustion, sometimes depression. At the moment, apparently, I’m a child again – the idealised version: happy and eager, with the sort of “can do” attitude that comes from having no concept of limits. But as a child, I was afraid of the dark.

It’s strange, coming home in the night time. Turning off the main road and into my quiet side street, where the street lamps don’t work and the darkness looms like a yawning cave. Some of the houses have outdoor lights that switch on and off as I walk past.

Unlocking the front door, I turn on the lights. The house is silent.

I go inside. Flick the switch in every room. The dim brightness of artificial light is eerie in the empty quiet. There’s a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I switch on the radio to drown out the silence.

6 pm. It’s early, but the darkness says it’s late. I cook, eating dinner to the sound of the radio, the stove cooling noisily in the background. Closed blinds keep out the night.

7:30. I curl up on the sofa, watching TV. I’d like to read, but that would mean going back to the silence. Why is it this cold stillness, so welcome in the daytime, seems so threatening at night? I turn up the volume to fill the empty darkness.

11 pm. Lying in bed, I stare blankly up at the ceiling. Moonlight streams in through thin curtains. Wrapped warm under weighty covers, comfortable, I drift towards sleep.

Moving lights; and a shadow rises, suddenly, from beside the bed. I jolt awake, heart pounding. Focus. Switch on the bedroom light.

Of course, there’s nothing there. I hear the neighbours’ car, pulling slowly into their driveway.

I know it’s ridiculous. I go to sleep with the lights on.

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