A Dreamcatching Gargoyle.

Throw some salt over your shoulder. Nail a horseshoe above the door. Cleave a foot off a rabbit. Open the Bible. Thumb your rosaries. Face Mecca. Go to the Wailing Wall. Most people have their rituals and their faiths to keep them from fear in the inky black of the night, those that fail to grasp that one, essential point. There is a bogeyman, though he does not go bump in the night.

When we are children, the typical fear is of an actual physical entity will come and harm us. From the monster which hides under the bed or in the closet, to the ghosts which wail and rattle their chains. We grow up and face the reality that these creations simply do not exist in this world. Yet, however there is still a suspension of disbelief when it comes to completely dismissing the possibility of their existence. People line up at the movie theaters and buy the popular paperbacks that describe the horrors that can ravage peoples minds. Why do they do this? An escape into horror does not make much sense, why would one willingly put themself into a place of fear? I think it is much rather a displacement of fear which drives us to seek these horrors.

To build one's fear around a fictional entity allows us to distance that emotion from reality. If you can stockpile all your fear in your imagination, you can approach reality fearlessly.

But what about those of us whose fears are entrenched fully within the sphere of reality? For whom the pearly gates and the caverns of fire and brimstone are tucked in between the skies of Navarone and the mines of Moria? It is that group which are not tormented by vicious demons or hockey masked serial killers, but by what their subconcious throws at them. Why torture a man with a succubus or a witch when an ex-girlfriend can add a personal touch to the fear. The mind, it is a wierd and unchained beast, switching from mysterious joy on one trip to overt torture the next. This was the case for the past two nights, where a pleasant dream of a lightly clad female acquaintance I hadn't seen in years shared a warm embrace played chastely in the first dream. The next night I was haunted by much more crude sexual overtures by an ex. The disparity was not lost on me. As most would define the male as the more coitus driven of the two sexes, it was odd to see it was this act that was the nightmare, whereas the more innocent exhange the blissful dream. I also tip my hat to my subconcious, as the more prudish women was making the more laviscious gestures. So how does one without faith or superstition attack their fears? One could say that I have used this medium to the fears that my subconcious has asserted these past two nights. To a casual reader, it would seem correct. Yet to those that know me, the realization that only a fraction is shown would be most apparent. So I look to prep some sort of gargoyle in my mind's eye, wondering if such guards would ever drive percieved evil away. I hope that it does not drive it away, but merely keep it at bay. For fears seldom disappear forever, they find tiny crevices to seep into and then leap out again when Murphy's Law dictates. Yet if you keep it in sight, you can attack, become familiar with it, and weaken it. Thus I will sit in a chair, behind my Gargoyle. A dreamcatcher hanging from above. Again never intending to drive off the feara, but keep the link between my concious and unconcious minds open.

Sic Semper Tyrannosaurus

Dave

I was at : 4244 NW 76 Terrace, Gainesville, FL 32606,