I lay in my bed mid-afternoon. The orange curtains made the softened sunlight somehow warmer. Bored, my eyelids would slowly close—a childhood naptime–the sweet stuff of adult memories.
But in the evening, the same room seemed sinister. The closet door hid unknown horrors. Under my bed lurked creatures just waiting for me to close my eyes so that they could come out and “get me”.
Even today, I remember the window, through which I could view the full moon.
I woke up one night and lay in the bed, dreading the idea of getting out and having my feet touch the floor. So I lay there. The only thing that protected me was the sheets and blankets that were pulled up tight under my chin. I felt safe, safer with the protection of the layers of cloth. Continue reading