What the Sandman Started

The Sandman and I have never been all that tight. He shows up in a timely fashion each night but he prefers to come and go as he pleases. The fickle bastard. His refusal to be steadfast used to cause me a good deal of angst, but I let go of that years ago.

It helps that I like the dark.

Except for that brief span of time where I was reading Interview with a Vampire, I've long fancied midnight strolls around my neighborhood. Sitting quietly in my living room in almost complete darkness soothes me more than chocolate, shiraz, or even a wicked good massage. Well maybe not quite as much as a wicked good massage, but almost.

It's not as if your world looks all that different in the dark, but everything around you does seem to have a larger presence and a stillness that escapes you in the light of day. I don't expect my furniture or treasured knick knacks to speak up with grand thoughts, but I do have the sense that they might want to.  The dark also clears my brain and time and again has played a pivotal role in the solution of questions and problems both large and small.

All in all, the dark is very alive and a fascinating place to spend time. And, once you've mastered walking about in the dark, it's a breeze to maneuver through. Although I'd still caution you to walk somewhat more slowly than usual. Nothing dashes these soothing and fascinating moments more quickly than a stubbed toe.

But, those of us who love the dark - and I'm assuming there are more than myself and whatever vampires may be lurking about - makes those who prefer lights, lamps, and candles just the slightest bit uneasy. Even my husband, after 28 years, will still step into the room if he happens to awake and ask, "What are you doing?" or "Why don't you turn on a light?"

The answer, of course, is always the same. "Just thinking" and "I don't want to." 

Or worse, he'll wake up, step into the room and simply switch on the light. I've never had a bikini wax, but it must be much the same as when they tear the wax from your nether regions. It's shockingly unpleasant and the urge to scream becomes hard to resist - as when you've discovered a vampire at your side.

I didn't realize just how odd my love of the dark came across to my better half until I got a call from one of his partners, Miss Billie. 

"Hello?" 

"This is Billie. Hey, are you ok?"

"Stellar. Why do you ask?"

"Kenny says you've been up at night sitting in the dark and it sounds a little crazy. Have you turned into a vampire or what?"

"Well, I do have this odd little bite mark on my neck, but I'm sure it's nothing..."

I swear I haven't become one of those "evil gusts of wind" forever destined to drain the life force from unfortunate souls. And, I see no reason for anyone to doubt my mental wellness. But in order to squelch any questions of those fearing otherwise, I urge all of you to climb aboard with me. Try sitting somewhere in your house in darkness and quiet. Let the dark soothe you. Find your nighttime fascination. Tell me what it did for you.

And truly, you don't have to worry about the vampires. But if you do see one, I'd love to hear about that too.