Real Life Terror

As Halloween approaches I'm seeing more and more scary movies on the television as well as in the movie theaters. I'm hoping that Chandler and I can get to the theater to see Paranormal Activity. I love scary movies, though not gory ones. Chandler enjoys both. He's seen all the Saw movies except for this latest one. He enjoys the Friday the 13th and the low budget Clive Barker movies. Dismemberment and disembowelment is fine with him. I don't get it, but I'll sit with him while we watch them; though I'll admit when I think it's about to get really gross, I turn my attention back to the safety of my lap top.

Me, I enjoy movies like Halloween, The Omens, Alien 1 & 2, Salem's Lot, and even though they are a bit on the gory side, I've always had a soft spot for Freddy Krueger and his Nightmares on Elm Street. That sinister laugh, the scraping of his razor gloves (eat your heart out Wolverine). Still, the best movies are the ones that show very little and leave most of it to your imagination. That's why I always thought the Blair Witch Project was ingenious in its execution.

Even at my age, on occasion, I can spook myself silly when I hear a noise that doesn't sound familiar, or when the dogs run to the window in the late night hours and continue to bark and growl. I mean, I can't see out there, so who knows what's watching me.

Right now though, there is a real life terror that lurks in the back of my mind. Chandler and I are in the process of building a new home. For the first two years we were together we lived in an apartment, followed by the last ten years in a mobile home park. It's been a nice place, can't really complain, and we've had a lot of laughter and tears here. A lot of living. All four of our children have done most of their growing up here with us on the weekends, holidays, other special occasions. So I can't complain.

Thing is, in the first relationship I was in, which lasted just over nine years, my partner and I (who I shall call Victor) lived most of it in a mobile home park. We too bought a home in a residential neighborhood (though it was a ranch style that was already built). Our relationship was rocky by then for several hundred reasons, and I think we both thought a real house would help solidify us again. It didn't. It just added to the destruction of the relationship. Although Victor becoming addicted to crack and staying out all night didn't really help matters.

Now I know that Chandler and I are strong, secure, and love each other as much as the day we met. We're both waiting anxiously with real excitement as we watch our new home being built. But sometimes when I lay awake in bed, or when I'm sitting up late on the weekends, I think back to my first time with a new home and Victor, and suddenly, irrationally, I start to hear the scraping of Freddy's razor gloves in the back of my mind.

Ghost, ghouls, goblins and eleven year olds who can spin their heads around and spit green pea soup. That's not scary. Wondering if you'll lose everything that you love most in life... that's scary.