When I
was a kid, I always had a nightlight on when I was sleeping at home. If I ever slept over at someone else’s house and
asked for a nightlight, I’d be mocked by adults and children alike who assumed
that I feared werewolves or other monsters that troll the darkness. In truth, my concern always was waking disoriented
from my typically violent dreams in a state of defensive readiness. A nightlight sped up my reorientation with
the comparative peacefulness of the real world.
To
this day, if I wake without proper muted lighting and then can’t find my
glasses, I’m apt to punch a wall or knock over a bedside table.
On a
related note, I am still single.
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