When I was small I couldn't sleep.
Correction: When I was small I couldn't sleep by myself.
I was terrified of any space occupied by me and me alone (whether in light or dark, although dark was worse). It didn't matter where I was, when my head hit the pillow the terror would strike. Being the youngest of three I was always shuffled upstairs first. Alone. As the room got darker the noises in my head got louder. And they told me I was doomed. Yes, doomed.
And so it was that my oldest sister would accompany me to our room and read aloud just long enough for the noises to quiet down and sleep to arrive. In the 'Allen' tradition of the absurd the usual fare was Edgar Allen Poe. Interesting choice for a small child turned insomniac by fright. But I loved every minute of it. And I would drift off to her voice reciting The Raven or The Conqueror Worm. Ahhhh sweet sleep!
When she (abandoned me) left for college, I was left to my own devices. I tried to read to myself, but it was hopeless. My mind still shifted awkwardly into dark places. So I did the only thing I could do. I bought a TV. With it's soft glow and constant murmuring I'd drift off to sleep. Eureka! Well, not quite.
A few years ago, my method ceased to work. With all the channels on the menu, there was always something of interest to choose. Suddenly I was thoroughly 'engaged' and wide awake. Not good. Not good at all. Where is this leading? To my second Eureka: I needed something familiar, soothing, engaging yet not 'too' engaging. Something on a 'loop', so if I fell asleep I wouldn't miss anything. Complicated? Yes, but I knew I'd find the answer.
And so I did. My 'white noise' became "Dark Shadows". All 1,245 episodes of creepy bed-time stories at my beck and call whenever I should need them. Which is, in truth, every night. My family laughs at my treasured collection. I suppose the series is a bit archaic in this day and age. But, like long-lost friends I can always rely on the voices of Barnabas or Quentin to gently guide me into dreamland.
So, they can mock at will. Because my nightly date with the supernatural 70's is so much better than the alternative; which was to kidnap my sister and force her to read me Poe every night on command.
For: Denise, who doesn't know how close she came...
Correction: When I was small I couldn't sleep by myself.
I was terrified of any space occupied by me and me alone (whether in light or dark, although dark was worse). It didn't matter where I was, when my head hit the pillow the terror would strike. Being the youngest of three I was always shuffled upstairs first. Alone. As the room got darker the noises in my head got louder. And they told me I was doomed. Yes, doomed.
And so it was that my oldest sister would accompany me to our room and read aloud just long enough for the noises to quiet down and sleep to arrive. In the 'Allen' tradition of the absurd the usual fare was Edgar Allen Poe. Interesting choice for a small child turned insomniac by fright. But I loved every minute of it. And I would drift off to her voice reciting The Raven or The Conqueror Worm. Ahhhh sweet sleep!
When she (abandoned me) left for college, I was left to my own devices. I tried to read to myself, but it was hopeless. My mind still shifted awkwardly into dark places. So I did the only thing I could do. I bought a TV. With it's soft glow and constant murmuring I'd drift off to sleep. Eureka! Well, not quite.
A few years ago, my method ceased to work. With all the channels on the menu, there was always something of interest to choose. Suddenly I was thoroughly 'engaged' and wide awake. Not good. Not good at all. Where is this leading? To my second Eureka: I needed something familiar, soothing, engaging yet not 'too' engaging. Something on a 'loop', so if I fell asleep I wouldn't miss anything. Complicated? Yes, but I knew I'd find the answer.
And so I did. My 'white noise' became "Dark Shadows". All 1,245 episodes of creepy bed-time stories at my beck and call whenever I should need them. Which is, in truth, every night. My family laughs at my treasured collection. I suppose the series is a bit archaic in this day and age. But, like long-lost friends I can always rely on the voices of Barnabas or Quentin to gently guide me into dreamland.
So, they can mock at will. Because my nightly date with the supernatural 70's is so much better than the alternative; which was to kidnap my sister and force her to read me Poe every night on command.
For: Denise, who doesn't know how close she came...
I think I heard the Dark Shadows theme on an AM radio station the other day. It seemed to be used as part of an ad for a certain show. I might be crazy though.
ReplyDeleteProbably not, I heard the soundtrack at IParty doing some Halloween shopping...
ReplyDeleteHaha...
ReplyDeleteWell thanks to you, I too drift off to dreamland with the alien music of Dark Shadows in my ears...
And "The Conquerer Worm"? I was totally going to put that on my blog today because I love it... :o)
Lo, tis a gala night
ReplyDeleteWithin the lonesome latter years
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
Mimes, in the form of God on high
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their condor wings
Invisible Woe.
...
the play, the tragedy man and it's hero - the conqueror worm...
That's all I can remember!
Umm hmmm...my favorite part is...
ReplyDeleteBut see amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude:
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes—it writhes!—with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And over each quivering form
In human gore imbued.
Yup, forgot just how ghastly this poem was. Of course I remember the fore part which is much 'nicer'
ReplyDelete