How My Bed Became My Bunker

 

Step One: Field Of Dreams.  The bed is in the middle of my bedroom.

-A happy story about fulfilling your dreams, baseball, and Kevin Costner, right?  Wrong.  I see vast expanses of corn where anything can be hiding…watching…waiting.  There’s a voice of hope and dreams, right?  Nope.  I only heard the second half of the famous quote, “they will come [for you, Jamie Ryan Goodin-yes, you!]”.  Sleep didn’t come easy that night.  After all, if sleep came, so would they…

àIn the middle of the room, I’m vulnerable from all sides.

 

Step Two: Edward Scissorhands.  The head of the bed is against the wall.

-Johnny Depp stole my happiness from the ages of 8-12.  I had a reoccurring dream:  I’m in a city alley standing in front of a huge wooden crate.  I blink and a wooden silhouette falls to the ground.  The sound of scissors snipping and a pale face…time to wake up.

àAt least the wall is protecting the area behind my bed.

 

Step Three: Jurassic Park.  The bed is in the corner of the room, against the wall.

­-“RAPTORS! NOT AGAIN!” Mom screamed as she ran towards me.  Suddenly, in every window, reptilian eyes of the past gluttonously peer inside.  I’m not sure, but I’ve got feeling the neighbors weren’t so lucky.  “We’ll be safe in here though,” Mom assured, “they can’t open door handles…”-For those of you that saw the movie, the raptors do open door handles and do eat you.

àSince then, I’ve made it a point to keep my bed in the corner of the room, tucked safely against the wall.  Now I sleep peacefully, safe from two sides.  I do not however, like watching Jumanji.