I made the mistake of watching the trailer for ‘Skinamarink’ a few weeks ago. Ever since then, I’ve slept with a light on.
I always liked reading horror books (Stephen King was one of my favourite authors, when I read a lot), and as long as they weren’t gory, I enjoyed thriller/horror films, too. I mean – who doesn’t love ‘Alien’?
It was silly of me, really, as my imagination would run wild, particularly at night, and all of a sudden, the area under the bed could be a haven for monsters. Every slipper was a trap.
As I’ve got older, I’m finding it harder to watch such movies. I don’t know if it’s me, or if the industry technology has advanced so much that it makes it seem more possible that vampires could be roaming among us.
You’d think that as long as one avoided this particular genre, one wouldn’t have scary nightmares, but after a week of tight deadlines and lots of events on my calendar, I realise that the bogeyman’s got nothing on an active mind.
Remember when you were in school and you had an exam coming up? I don’t know about you, but I often had ghastly nights of vivid scenarios where I’d be in the classroom, knowing nothing about the subject on which we were all to be tested. I’d missed all the lessons; I hadn’t studied; what the heck had possessed me to take advanced nuclear physics in the first place?
Another glorious scenario that most people have endured when they’ve closed their eyes is their inexplicable and immediate transition from being clothed to complete nudity. The experts have theories on why these dreams happen, but that doesn’t make me feel any better when I’m in the thick of it and suddenly notice I’m naked on a downtown bus. Why are we not as resourceful in these visions as we would be in real life? Seriously, if through some freak accident, everything from my dress to my bra got sucked off me and disappeared, I’d be looking for the closest thing within arm’s reach to shield myself until I could get a sheet or something. Heck, a toilet seat lid would do in a pinch – rip it from its hinges, hold it up like a giant Tic Tac and keep your back to the wall at all times. Women have worn less on the red carpet. But no, in my dream/nightmare, I’m furtively dashing between buildings, wondering when I made the decision to leave the house sans wardrobe.
They always say the human brain is a fascinating organ, and we only use a small percentage of it. So why doesn’t mine help me design a car that runs on bananas, rather than torture me in the wee hours? Right now, I’m in busy season for the entertainment biz, and that means booking lots of bands and performers for groups visiting the island. At least three times a week, I dream that I’ve forgotten to book an act, or sent an email to the wrong person, or missed creating invoices and now I won’t get paid for anything. Even when I’m in that twilight between sleeping and waking up, I question the mistakes I’ve made. It’s only when I’m swinging my legs over the side of the mattress (did I just see something slither under the bed???) and stumbling towards the bathroom that I know for a fact that none of it was real, and I don’t have to learn to juggle giant coconuts in the next five hours.
Speaking to friends, I am not alone in being visited by my various Achilles heels when I am in my most vulnerable state. Friend Carol, who was in the service industry many moons ago, said she had awful nightmares of working the biggest venue in Toronto, where she was the only server and the place was packed. “Customers kept calling out for me to take their orders, or ask where their food was,” she said. “I woke up in a cold sweat.”
It must be the case for anyone in a high-pressure job, that their worst-case scenario pops up in their dreams at some point or the other. Stockbrokers probably shiver in the night over putting all their clients’ money in typewriter futures. No doubt lawyers dread the film playing out in their heads of attending court without any pants on, or realising they have no idea why they are there or who their client is, as the judge barks down at them from the bench. It’s truly remarkable how real it can all seem, until that blessed alarm goes off. Many’s the morning I’ve rummaged around in my mouth, thrilled to find that I haven’t lost all my teeth. If Crest could figure out how to harness that power, it’d be raking in the dough.
Yes, the mind is a magical place, but it can also play lousy tricks on a person.
In conclusion, I wonder how many of you have read through this article quickly, because you just can’t wait to watch that ‘Skinamarink’ trailer. Honestly, it is as creepy as all get-out – you have been warned. My Santa nightlight with the highest wattage bulb I could find is in my bedroom, keeping me protected from things that go bump in the dark. Suddenly, taking a naked turn about the town doesn’t seem so bad after all.
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