Nightmare on Main Street

Fear is a funny thing. There is no logic to it. You can't control or dictate what you will be or are afraid of. Take me for example... As a child, I was afraid of clowns and vampires. Then I thought of vampire clowns and I thought I'd never sleep again.

The clown thing is easily explained. Chalk it up to wrong place/wrong time. I was flipping through channels-- this was back in the days where all tvs had knobs and UHF and all that shit-- and I happened to land on Poltergeist at the exact moment the clown doll attacked the little boy. Messed me up. I always distrusted clowns, but here was proof!

I don't know what caused the fear of vampires, but I remember a phone commercial with a vampire popping out of a coffin. I'd hide my face every time it came on. The sad part about it is that it was such a lame commercial, but it terrified me. Eventually, I got over the vampire fear, but I really dislike clowns.

One time, I must've been about 3-4 years old, my parents took me to the circus. I knew there would be clowns there and that made me nervous. I didn't worry so much when I saw how high up our seats were. I'd easily see a clown coming and could run away. We were way up there. I was able to relax and watch the show. I enjoyed it all except for the blood-thirsty, evil clowns. Then something happened. The clowns on stilts came out. Now, at the time, I didn't realize they were wearing stilts. I thought that their legs could stretch that high. And logically, to a 3 year old, if their legs could stretch, surely their arms could stretch. That meant they could reach me. I freaked the fuck out. I tried jumping over my seat into the aisle behind me. My mom had to grab me and hold me down. I knew better than to make a scene. It just wasn't done. I was always a polite little girl. I knew my mom wouldn't get it. I told her "The clown's gonna get me", but she thought I was being silly and held me in place. I remember wanting to cry because this was just like my mom feeding me to the clowns. It was horrible. They never took me to the circus again.

Fast forward to my kids. My son was born cautious. He was always a little be afraid of everything. My daughter, on the other hand, was absolutely fearless...and not necessarily in a good way. She had no fear at all in her. It scared me. She was the one who'd try to climb the shelves and jump off. Nothing scared the girl. I remember the time she picked up a dog bowl with a very large, poisonous spider in it. I mean, the spider filled the bowl. She wasn't afraid.

I remember the time, at the shore, we went on this ride called The Condor. She decided that she wanted to go on it and wanted me to take her. Now, I'm afraid of heights and this ride went way, way up, but I'm not as bad as I was and figured that if a mere child could handle it so could I. So we hop into a car.

Ok, to describe this ride... Imagine a maypole. You know how the top kinda spins around? Ok, in this ride, that part is where all of the little cars are. It starts out at the bottom and them slowly ascends to the very tippy top. And it turns slowly around the pole. Of course, the cars swing out as it spins and there are no seat belts. You get to hold on. I was not a happy camper.

So I have a death grip on my youngest and on the car. I'm trying not to panic, but it's hard. We keep going up, up, up. The girl finally, for the first time in her life, shows some fear. She wants to go back down, but we're stuck, and I'm trying to keep her calm by talking soothingly to her and all the while, I'm silently screaming in my head. We, after what seemed like a lifetime, get back down. The girl scrambles hurriedly out of the ride, just in case it decides to drag her back to the top, and runs to her grandma. I, oh so shakily, emerge and have to sit for a moment before I can actually walk anywhere. I quietly tell the girl that I'll kill her if she ever suggests a ride like that again, she doesn't have a problem with that idea. My baby, the fearless one, finally got a dose of fear and she wasn't eager to experience it again.

Now my little fearless one is afraid of everything. To the point where it's irritating. Her brother, the cautious one, is no longer so afraid. It's like they switched roles. This week, both had nightmares. I told each the same thing-- to take over the dream and make it so the scary thing isn't so scary anymore. It worked like a charm for the boy, he was eager to get back to sleep and try it out. It didn't work so well for the girl. It makes me a bit sad, that. As much as I worried about her utter lack of fear (some fear has its purpose), I admired that fearlessness as well. It made me proud to be raising an independent little girl. I wish I were a bit more fearless. I also wish she'd gain back some of that fearlessness.