by Cyn Bagley

Created on: July 05, 2007   Last Updated: May 04, 2010

The word, shiver, invokes deep feelings that reach back into my childhood. I remember lying on my bed in the dark, hearing voices speak, seeing colors under my eyelids, and feeling a hand around my throat. I would wake hard, searching for whoever, whatever was in my room.

The small rocker in the corner would rock slightly back and forth. I would force my face into my teddy bear, looking for comfort. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I saw something there or that it was a dream residue.

But, by this time, I had had so many nightmares that my parents would not let me come into their room for comfort. Even so, after I checked to see that I was alone, except for my sisters snoring in their beds, I would slide from the top bunk to the floor. I would slip down the hall, then try the door. It would be locked.

I would slide down to the floor, my arms wrapped around me - shivering and shaking. Eventually, I would have to go back to my bed. But, I would rather fall asleep on the floor near comfort. Sometimes, my parents would find me in the morning - cold and wet. Sometimes, I would be in my bed - cold and wet.

Nevertheless, these experiences would only happen in the dark of night.

One day, after church near Halloween, some friends and I were in the kitchen playing a board game. This game featured pumpkins, witches, and ghouls. The first one to get to the end of the game would be pardoned from washing the dishes. It was very competitive.

I was almost in the lead, but I had to go to the bathroom. I waited until I couldn't wait any more, bladder bursting time. I ran to the bathroom in the hall next to the three bedrooms. In the distance, I could hear my father outside mowing the lawn, a soft whirring sound. As I ran to the bathroom, I saw my mother on her bed sleeping next to the baby.

After I finished and flushed, I walked out the bathroom door. The first thing I noticed was the quiet. Nothing. I stopped.

I could not hear the children in the kitchen. I could not hear my mother or father.

I investigated the bedroom. My mother was not sleeping next to the baby. The bed was made. No one was there. I ran to the kitchen. The kitchen was sparkling. There were no dishes on the counter. The children who had been in the kitchen moments before were gone.

Then I went to the front door. By then, I was shaking, my shoulders were tense. Something was wrong. I could feel the terror build as I touched the doorknob. It was then I knew that if I walked out that door that I would never come back. Never.

I drew back from the door and ran to the bathroom. It was the only safe place in the house. I huddled on top the toilet seat. I closed my eyes really tight.

Then it came to me. If I wanted to get back to my world, my real world, I would have to do everything all over again. I got up from the toilet and flushed it. I walked slowly to the bathroom door, praying with all my might that I would be back...back to my world.

I opened the door.

I could hear my father talking to my mother in the bedroom. I walked slowly down the hall and saw my friends playing the game.

Was this my world? I don't know. But, it was close enough.

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