When I was a toddler, my family lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere. One night there was a horrible storm, and I remember waking up and looking out the window at a combine working the field between lightning flashes. This farmer could’ve been desperately behind schedule and working through the night, or I could’ve been dreaming. It wasn’t scary. I remember feeling quite still and mesmerized.
When I was younger, I was terrified of matadors and the people who threw the tassels into the bull. And so, when I would get my night terrors, I would sleep ram into things thinking they were matadors. This was fine if it was a blanket or a stuffed animal, but the final time it was a locked door. Now, I have scars running through my eyebrow from trying to run down a doorknob in my sleep 😅🥲
