in case you didn't know, when i was younger i was the most paranoid person on earth. i lived in constant fear that someone was going to kidnap me, break into our house, kill me, torture my family, set me up for murdering someone, really the list goes on & on.
when i used to come home from school, and my mom was still at work (when my dad was in the navy, and out to sea for months at a time), i would come home, turn on all the lights downstairs (at 3 in the afternoon - i wouldn't go upstairs because i was convinced someone was hiding up there, waiting to kill me), then i would go into the kitchen and get two butcher knives, one for each hand. i'd sit on the very edge of our couch, back straight, holding the knives, and wait for my mom to get home.
she would always do this little "i'm hooo-oome" song when she opened the door, and i had just enough time to run back to the kitchen, and put the knives back before she saw.
i was paranoid.
as fuck.
and it only got worse in my younger years.
imagine having yr kid call you up and tell you that a man dressed as a woman with a gun was at the front door.
it happened to my parents.
but - in my defense, it did happen.
well, maybe he didn't have a gun, but he (she?) had a tiny little handbag that i was sure held a gun - nothing else would possibly fit.
when i lived in south carolina i would sleep with a baseball bat IN my bed, just in case someone broke in while i was sleeping. i was, ohhh, 8?
in our house in washington, the whole back side was windows, and we had this gorgeous backyard. we didn't have blinds or anything up, so at night you couldn't see out. but people could see in. everytime i walked thru the kitchen i would look out those windows, convinced that someone was watching me, and i would wave or make dirty faces because i wanted the burglars/murderers to know that i knew what they were up to.
i don't know when exactly i got over my paranoia, but thank god i did. i mean, i may have it to a certain degree now (tiny tiny tiny), but it pales in comparison to how i once was.
anyway... last nite i had this dream that i was going to the airport to pick up my friend's husband. i was in a house that was a combination of houses i lived in as a child, but i was grown up (my age), and my parents didn't live there. so i was upstairs getting ready, and i thought i heard someone whistling a song downstairs. i ignored it, but i had a creepy feeling.
i turned off the lights upstairs, and went downstairs to the front door to leave. i had a feeling something wasn't right, so i walked down this little hallway into the dining room, and looked to the right where the garage was. the door going out to the garage was wide open, and the rocking chair near the door was rocking like someone had just run past.
i don't remember the rest.
all i know is i woke up with my heart & mind fucking racing, and i felt like i was 10 again.
and then, of course, i checked the whole apartment for killers.