Honestly, I'm no fan of the dark when it comes to being inside..
At a young age I was relocated from the safety of a bedroom next to my parents' room, to a converted bedroom downstairs. These were the days when I slept in Aladdin pyjamas - long sleeve top and bottoms. Being born in '87 and Aladdin hitting the cinema in '92..it is safe to say my age was still only a single digit.

Everyone remembers having a nightmare when they were little - and running into their parents' bed and spending the night curled up between Ma and Pa where it was safe and monsters couldn't get you, right? Well, imagine a pitch black staircase and hallway between you and your parents. Imagine having a nightmare, softly padding out of your room and freezing a few paces into the hall, gazing into the oblivion of the stairs. Imagine nightmares about monsters in your room, scary noises and shifty shadows - I spent many nights in purgatory between the staircase and my room, depending on what the nightmare featured.

Eventually I was entrusted with a lamp - so as I got older and my nightmares were deeper, darker and generally more realistic - I started sleeping with the lamp on all night long. Not long after this was discovered Ma and Pa fitted a light outside my room which gently illuminated the hallway to the stairs..and that's about it. That light stayed on every night for the best part of 10 years as I slept with my bedroom door ajar. Eventually a light cast into my room became annoying, as did the standby light on the TV and a digital clock so I started closing the door and turning the TV off at the mains. I was finally getting over my fear of the dark - bar the odd moment of panic as other b3tans have described (short noises which are unfamiliar and hard to locate, a flickering shadow perhaps).

Or so I thought! You see, the current Mrs. Mango lives in one of those older, town-house style houses whereby the bathroom (and thus, the toilet) are situated downstairs often at the back of the house. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I smuggle my phone out with me and use the soft-light from the keypad and screen to guide my way down the stairs and into the living room as not to wake her dear old Ma. The floors are as thin as paper so I try not to switch the light on in the living room. Entering the kitchen, my first obstacle, the light switch is on the other side of the room. Now if anyone was awake, due to the cardboard floors, they may think I was practising coal-walking. I gently walk down the stairs and into the living room, where by pace speeds up a little. In the kitchen it goes a bit pear shaped - plod, plod, plod, plod-plod-plod-plod-plod, plod. I have a door, small hall and another door before hitting the bathroom where there is glorious light and Glen - my new found friend - the room heater. Glen sits high on the wall and wags his pull-cord tail when I'm around - or so I like to think. Their house is freezing in winter, so I sneak a moment or two with Glen to ensure I don't give Mango Jr. frostbite if you know what I mean.

Anyway! Cue going to see I Am Legend at the cinema. Reasonable film by the way, but the scene where Will Smith chases his dog into that bank and finds those zombie things huddled in the corner of the dark room..eep! Yes, dear reader, those images stayed in my mind. The stairway, the living room and the kitchen were still taken at my usual pace, but this time I would freeze at the door leading into the hallway. It was blacker than black in there, with about 4' of space to the left of the door where anything could have been lurking. I had to spend what felt like forever psyching myself up to open the door and hurl myself into the bathroom. And then do it all again when heading back to bed - even though I'd just gone through the hallway where nothing was, I couldn't shake those images or the deep-seeded fear of the dark.

I may have practised coal-walking to the bathroom, but the way back was a 100m sprint against Olympic champions. As soon as I opened the bathroom door to head back upstairs, I was off like a rocket. Thud-thud, slam, thud-slam, thud-thud-thud-thud-thud, slam, thud-thus-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-slam-boing. As soon as the bedroom door was closed behind me I dived into bed, often causing Mrs. Mango to sit bolt-up right semi-shrieking 'what was that' to which I would downplay my sheer horror, apologise for my less than gentlemanly bed-entering approach and cuddle up to her (I believe it is more accurately described as 'cling on to dear life') until I fell asleep again.

I definitely get more paranoid and on edge if I'm stressed, or feeling down and out. I guess it's regression. Mrs. Mango is petrified of thunder storms. Day or night - she hates them. I hold her close all night long, even after she falls asleep, because it makes her feel safe. But I'm a horrible, horrible man sometimes - and tease her about it. Ironic with my own childish fears. She got revenge one day by following me to the bathroom and hiding in that hallway. Had I not just emptied my bladder I would have surely emptied it on the spot as she jumped forwards shouting 'boo.' I saw the funny side after a couple of days. She's learned well, she has :)
( mango_charlie, Mon 27 Jul 2009, 15:48, 2 replies)

Strange.....
I have this mental image of you as a secret Lemonade drinker, sneaking downstairs.

(Fucking hell, if you were born in 87, you won't have a clue what I mean)
(Rsoles, Mon 27 Jul 2009, 17:14, closed)

Well..
Not lemonade and cinzano by chance? :)
( mango_charlie, Mon 27 Jul 2009, 17:19, closed)