I'm in my bed. There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. I'm safe here. It's just my mind playing tricks on me.
Have you ever heard the sound of someone breathing? Well try imagining it for a second. Okay. Now imagine that your really, really small. Now imagine that your in a small box. And not only that, but it's also dark. Really, really dark. Now imagine the sound of breathing in the box and it's loud. Really, really loud. Got it? Good. Cause guess what? Surprise! You're not in a box, you're in your room! And surprise again! The breathing's so loud because it's coming from under your bed!
Woo hoo!
Now, repeat after me. "I'm in my bed. There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. I'm safe here. It's just my mind playing tricks on me."
Hey ... Surprise... You're NOT safe. Nope not at all. That thing that you "think" you're imagining? It's really there!
*nod nod nod*
So have you got a good idea of this in your head now? Good. Because this is exactly what I went through for weeks after we first moved into our new house when I was about twelve.
My parents said it was just my imagination. They said I was lieing. They absitivelyposolutely REFUSED to believe me!
So guess what I did?
I stopped being scared. Yup.
I got out from under my blankets, out from under my fear, out into the darkness, and down onto the floor, down onto my knees, so that I could look down there and see what all the breathing noise really was. And there, under my bed, were a pair of eyes staring back at me.
Wheee!
"I'm back in my bed. There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. I'm safe here. It's just my mind playing tricks on me."
It would be awhile before I did that again. And in the weeks I spent reassembling my courage, I also made a nighttime survival kit. It consisted of my dad's flashlight, my and my sword, which was actually just a letter opener. But in my own mind, I imagined wielding it like a mighty samurai sword against the monster that owned the eyes which stared back at me everytime I closed mine. I even made some cardboard and foil armor. And even managed to keep my superman towel hidden so that I could tie it around myself like a cape when the moment of truth finally arrived. And then it did.
I had gone to bed, with my armour close by, That way I wouldn't have to search for it in the dark. I decided that I would start putting it all on when the breathing started. And then it did.
I grabbed the flashlight. The breathing continued. I put on my armor. The breathing got louder. I held my sword tight. The breathing got heavier. I forgot all about my cape.
The breathing burned up and down my neck.
Then I was out from under the covers. Then I was down on the floor pointing the flashlight at the eyes. Then I turned the flashlight on. And there, under the bed, staring back at me, were more then just a pair of eyes now. For I could see, quite clearly, that it wasn't a monster that owned those eyes. Nope. It was a clown.
"I'm in my bed. There's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. I'm safe here. It's just my mind playing tricks on me."
For the next few weeks I reminisced how the eyes looked like a wild animal's, how it's mouth was partially open and I could see that it had sharp pointy teeth. And how it just stared back at me.
Now, add sweat. Cause' I spent my nights sweating I was so scared of what was under there. But my parents refused to give in. The counselors said it was normal. And the school nurse found no signs of bruising or other abuse. Doctor's vitamins, mom's herbal remedies, dad's talks, did little to slow my rapid deterioration. I was wasting away, with a vengeance.
Lack of sleep will do that to you.
I mean, I was happy that they were at least trying to help me but everytime I brought up The Clown, I quickly became an object of frustration, a source of strife. My request to sleep on the couch was summarily denied. For to do so, would be to lend credence to my... imagination.
On the night after my first visit to the shrink, (I'd been talking-crazy-for-the-last-time at the dinner table again) I decided to try it again. Thinking back I'd have to say it was more anger then real courage. No. No, it was more than just anger. It was rage. I was full of rage because no one was even listening to me. So I said to hell with it. I said to hell with them! Even though hell was still a bad word for me back then. LOL!!!
I needed no armor this time, but I still brought my flashlight. I lowered myself down. I sat on the floor. I stared at the eyes staring out at me. I lifted up the flashlight and pointed it at them. I turned the flashlight on. And there it was. THE CLOWN.
I turned the flashlight off. I turned it on again.
Still there.
I turned it off again.
I was really scared. But in a way...
I felt better. I slept.
Next night I did it again. Still there. I slept again.
But before falling asleep... I wondered.
Next night, again. Still there.
I tried to talk to it. It just breathed back at me.
But its eyes looked kinda sad. I mean, they were definitely the evil eyes of an evil clown, no doubt about it, but in them I sensed... a loneliness?
Next night I wasn't scared at all. In fact I slept on the floor. I wanted the clown to talk to me. Night after that I slept closer to the bed. And the night after that I slept under the bed. But still nothing.
Ever seen your mother's jaw drop from something you just said? I have. That's what she did when I asked her to buy me a clown mask. It was getting close to Halloween and there was one hanging on a hook at this gay shop in town. She was shocked, but she did it anyways. And that night I slept under the bed with my clown mask on, next to Mister Clown.
But I was worried. I was worried because he never moved. Not even when I proded him with a big stick.
So I decided to try to get him some exercise. Before trying anything, I explained to him what I was going to do and why. He didn't seem to object, so I grabbed hold of him. Still no objections. So I pulled, and then I pulled again, and then again. Each time I pulled his body rolled back and forth, like he was dead. But I could still hear him breathing, so I knew he wasn't. Each time I pulled I could hear how his breathing changed as his weight shifted. Each time I pulled his head went from looking in one direction, to looking the other, and then back again. I pulled a mighty pull to clear him out from under the bed... and he grabbed me! And he BIT me!
I'm on my floor. There's something wrong. Nothing is right. I'm not safe here. My mind is not playing tricks on me.
Shock rendered my body limp.
I sat there for a bit.
Did he really just bite me?
I sat there for a bit longer.
Why isn't he still biting me?
I looked under the bed but saw nothing. I looked around the room and saw more nothing. I wondered about it some more. I stopped wondering.
I fell asleep...
under the bed...
with my clown mask on.
I did it, hoping that the clown would come back so that I could ask him why he did what he did. But he never came back. I even added some circus stuff to my room, figuring that a clown might feel more comfortable with things like that around and therefore might return. Didn't work.
I even started sleeping on top of the bed again. But that didn't work either.
Then I thought that maybe he got lost. So I started sneaking out at night. Then I started sneaking into people's houses, and hiding under their beds, and waiting all night to see if Mister Clown would appear. But he still hasn't. I even tried breathing really loud cause maybe that would "call" him back.
That didn't work either.
So... Reader. I was wondering...
Is he under 'your' bed?
Have you... checked?
...
Mind if I do?
