Tension Cords
Oh crap. It's 5:15 in the morning.
I can't remember the last time that I woke up because of a nightmare. I've certainly grown up since I was a child, but I still found myself staring at the clock in a silent panic. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what series of events caused this awakening to occur. I had gone to sleep a bit late the night before but didn't have any alcohol or food in me, so why was this happening?
The dream itself wasn't overly scary, although I do remember that somebody was trying to kill me and I was in that all-to-familiar horror movie situation where the evil just keeps coming (complete with the strings of impending doom and/or death). At one point, I was walking through market stalls in the rain by myself and the part of my brain that was still lucid managed to realize that this was the point, if any, that I would probably get attacked if I were in a horror movie. Long story short, I didn't end up dying in my dream but woke up short of a confrontation with my killer. It's the terror of knowing that I was going to die, I guess, that finally did it. The funny thing was that I wasn't sure that I was in a dream but I certainly knew that what I was experiencing wasn't real. This knowledge didn't do much, however, to abate my fear once I awoke.
Few things in my life have scared me so much that I have been unable to go back to sleep but for whatever reason, I was on a roll last night. Sitting in my bed and staring out at the open window in front of me, I suddenly became nervous that I didn't lock my door and that there might be someone waiting to abduct me...or worse. Flashes of scenes from "Saw" rushed through my head as I rolled out of bed to check the dead bolt. "I value my life, I value my life," I kept repeating to myself as I made my through the dark apartment.
Okay, so I realize that this is irrational behavior but it's better to be on the safe side than to end up chained to a wall, right?
As I settled back into bed after an inspection of the apartment, I began to think about how long it's been since I've truly been scared. When was the last time that I was so frightened of something that I actually had to stop what I was doing to calm myself down?
One of the rituals of ninth grade in my high school was to go off to camp with your homeroom in an attempt to, among other things, bond with classmates. The camp itself went well and was fun (I suspect partially because I was already fairly good friends with people in my homeroom) but there was one aspect of the camp that has managed to lodge itself into my brain. Camp consisted of many things, including a bunch of food, star watching, and a high ropes course. So, this might be a good time to mention that I don't do well with heights and never really have. I recently got over my fear of roller coasters, but standing on the edge of a building is just never going to be my thing. But back to the matter at hand. The ropes course caused our group to problem solve in a variety of ways and was generally very helpful and fun except for one particular exercise that consisted of two ropes joined together to make a large "V." The exercise had two people start out at the narrow end of the apparatus and then slowly move out to the wide end using only each other as a means of balance.
Climbing up the tree, my arms began to feel increasingly heavy and I felt the familiar knot of tension begin to build in my stomach. In my head I knew that I was on a rope and that I wouldn't die (although my parents had signed a waiver saying that they would not sue if I did in fact die) but the height was still causing a bit of nervousness. Eventually, my partner and I made it to the top and began our trek on the thin ropes. Looking for all the world like a couple of kids playing "London Bridge," our team made it farther out from the edge and away from the safety of the starting platform.
"We're doing pretty good," I thought as I struggled to communicate with my partner about when we would shift our weight. The trouble with our pose was that our heads were forced to look down at the ground--probably not the best idea, but it could not be helped. I began to take another step to my right and then panic set in...
My partner fell backward off the rope with a yelp.
Looking back, I find it amusing how I actually had enough time to take in the fact that I was all alone on the ropes and that I would be falling in a second. Sure enough, I felt the rope begin to shake and the trees were flying by as I held onto my harness for dear life. After I calmed down, I began to realize that it was actually sort of nice hanging up in the trees with a view of the camp laid out at my feet. I reclined back into the harness, confident in the skills of the person on the ground who would guide me back down.
So I'm sure that there were some life lessons that were learned through all of this but I still marvel at the fact that, up there on the rope, there was a second when everything suddenly came into focus and I realized that the ride was over. Up until that point, I had been so focused on moving along the rope that I hadn't even thought about the fact that I would eventually fall as there was no way to actually complete that particular challenge (or, well, get to the end of the ropes, at least).
Back in my bed, I began to replay this scene from my memory over in my head. Although the event had been terrifying at the time, I had lived through it and came to realize that if I just managed to accept the terror for what it was, that I would no longer be afraid. In both cases, once I understood why I was so scared, things would be easier and I could rest easy.
I can't remember the last time that I woke up because of a nightmare. I've certainly grown up since I was a child, but I still found myself staring at the clock in a silent panic. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what series of events caused this awakening to occur. I had gone to sleep a bit late the night before but didn't have any alcohol or food in me, so why was this happening?
The dream itself wasn't overly scary, although I do remember that somebody was trying to kill me and I was in that all-to-familiar horror movie situation where the evil just keeps coming (complete with the strings of impending doom and/or death). At one point, I was walking through market stalls in the rain by myself and the part of my brain that was still lucid managed to realize that this was the point, if any, that I would probably get attacked if I were in a horror movie. Long story short, I didn't end up dying in my dream but woke up short of a confrontation with my killer. It's the terror of knowing that I was going to die, I guess, that finally did it. The funny thing was that I wasn't sure that I was in a dream but I certainly knew that what I was experiencing wasn't real. This knowledge didn't do much, however, to abate my fear once I awoke.
Few things in my life have scared me so much that I have been unable to go back to sleep but for whatever reason, I was on a roll last night. Sitting in my bed and staring out at the open window in front of me, I suddenly became nervous that I didn't lock my door and that there might be someone waiting to abduct me...or worse. Flashes of scenes from "Saw" rushed through my head as I rolled out of bed to check the dead bolt. "I value my life, I value my life," I kept repeating to myself as I made my through the dark apartment.
Okay, so I realize that this is irrational behavior but it's better to be on the safe side than to end up chained to a wall, right?
As I settled back into bed after an inspection of the apartment, I began to think about how long it's been since I've truly been scared. When was the last time that I was so frightened of something that I actually had to stop what I was doing to calm myself down?
One of the rituals of ninth grade in my high school was to go off to camp with your homeroom in an attempt to, among other things, bond with classmates. The camp itself went well and was fun (I suspect partially because I was already fairly good friends with people in my homeroom) but there was one aspect of the camp that has managed to lodge itself into my brain. Camp consisted of many things, including a bunch of food, star watching, and a high ropes course. So, this might be a good time to mention that I don't do well with heights and never really have. I recently got over my fear of roller coasters, but standing on the edge of a building is just never going to be my thing. But back to the matter at hand. The ropes course caused our group to problem solve in a variety of ways and was generally very helpful and fun except for one particular exercise that consisted of two ropes joined together to make a large "V." The exercise had two people start out at the narrow end of the apparatus and then slowly move out to the wide end using only each other as a means of balance.
Climbing up the tree, my arms began to feel increasingly heavy and I felt the familiar knot of tension begin to build in my stomach. In my head I knew that I was on a rope and that I wouldn't die (although my parents had signed a waiver saying that they would not sue if I did in fact die) but the height was still causing a bit of nervousness. Eventually, my partner and I made it to the top and began our trek on the thin ropes. Looking for all the world like a couple of kids playing "London Bridge," our team made it farther out from the edge and away from the safety of the starting platform.
"We're doing pretty good," I thought as I struggled to communicate with my partner about when we would shift our weight. The trouble with our pose was that our heads were forced to look down at the ground--probably not the best idea, but it could not be helped. I began to take another step to my right and then panic set in...
My partner fell backward off the rope with a yelp.
Looking back, I find it amusing how I actually had enough time to take in the fact that I was all alone on the ropes and that I would be falling in a second. Sure enough, I felt the rope begin to shake and the trees were flying by as I held onto my harness for dear life. After I calmed down, I began to realize that it was actually sort of nice hanging up in the trees with a view of the camp laid out at my feet. I reclined back into the harness, confident in the skills of the person on the ground who would guide me back down.
So I'm sure that there were some life lessons that were learned through all of this but I still marvel at the fact that, up there on the rope, there was a second when everything suddenly came into focus and I realized that the ride was over. Up until that point, I had been so focused on moving along the rope that I hadn't even thought about the fact that I would eventually fall as there was no way to actually complete that particular challenge (or, well, get to the end of the ropes, at least).
Back in my bed, I began to replay this scene from my memory over in my head. Although the event had been terrifying at the time, I had lived through it and came to realize that if I just managed to accept the terror for what it was, that I would no longer be afraid. In both cases, once I understood why I was so scared, things would be easier and I could rest easy.