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Cutting Through the Fog

Yesterday afternoon the airplane carrying me from London was on approach to the airport in Palma, Majorca. As I looked through my window I was concerned that we were landing in a rather heavy fog, but I had confidence in ground radar and our pilots. After we landed safely I looked through a window on the opposite side of the plane, to see no fog at all. I looked back through my window. Heavy fog.

Was there fog on my side of the plane and not on the other? No. My window was fogged over, creating the impression of fog outside. Beyond my window the air was clear.

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Cheetos Now; Cheetos Forever

Years ago I was at a comedy show in Inverness, Scotland, and remember one joke which was very funny but still cuts me to my core.

“I’m on a seafood diet,” the comedian said. “I see food, I eat it.”

I have always been on the plus side of the scale. When I was ten or eleven my father tried to help me lose a few pounds. We had a running “bet” – lose weight, he paid me, gain weight, I paid him. That arrangement ended when he realized I was manipulating the scale so that I could instantly “lose” between three and five pounds.

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I’m Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

 

He waits …

He waits …

When I was very young I had many dreams, mostly nightmares.

In one I was chased by the big bad wolf and couldn’t get away.  To this day I have no idea what the threat was, which may be why the wolf was so scary.  But I did know he wanted to catch me and when he did something awful would happen.  Maybe my mother, at my request, told me the story of Little Red Riding Hood too often.  I had an active imagination then, and now.

I woke up screaming, night after night.  It was my father who always came into my bedroom to comfort me.  One night he said, “Alan, you don’t have to be afraid of the big bad wolf.  He can’t hurt you.  He’s only in your mind.  Next time he chases you in your dream, just turn around and say to him, ‘Mr. Wolf, go away.’  And he will.”

I’m sure you know that dreams are seldom rational.  Though my father repeated his message to me many times, my big bad wolf nightmares continued.

Finally one night the wolf was chasing me as hard as he could, and at the point when he almost caught me I turned to him and said, “Go away, Wolf.”  The wolf looked confused, then turned, then slunk away.  He never bothered me again.

Today there are many wolves which chase me.  Fear of financial disaster, fear of abandonment, fear of rejection.  And, indeed, financial disaster has stalked me, like most everyone else, for the past few years.  I have seldom, in fact, been abandoned.  And I feel rejected every day if anyone fails to respond to me quickly enough or in exactly the way I desire.  But even as I remind myself that financial disaster, abandonment, and rejection have not really harmed me, I still am afraid they will.

I should be able to turn around, face these new, wolves, and tell them to just go away.  Goodness!  I did it when I was little, and even while I was asleep.  Dad – why can’t I do the same now?  Maybe it’s not possible for me.  I am still working on it.

My second big fear when I was little, but completely awake, was that the boogeyman would come to get me right through my bedroom walls.  I had no idea of what he looked like, how he could walk right through walls when no one else could (I tried and failed a few times), or what terrible thing he would do to me when he came.  I was certain, however, that the boogeyman did exist, could walk through any wall as if it were air, and there was no safety anywhere in the world.  Even my father could not reach me in time.

I believe that the big bad wolf represents fear of the known – a hungry animal with teeth which could rip my flesh apart.  But the boogeyman is another story – a faceless, nameless nemesis against which I have absolutely no protection.

The best thought I have for myself regarding the boogeyman is – live with him.  If you have a better idea, please let me know.

A few years ago I wrote the following poem:

Boogeyman

When I was two or three
I knew the boogeyman

would come to get me
through my bedroom walls.

But he proved to be far
more scary than that.

He waited.
He waits.

I wish me sweet, sweet dreams.

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