Prompt: Describe a person, real or fake
The Hairy Man
When I was a wee 4 or 5 years old, I went to bed one night upstairs, only to wake up in the early morning hour on a floral couch in our downstairs living room. Now, the obvious explanation for this is I slept-walked, but at the time I was absolutely convinced I was carried from my bed by a tall, Bigfoot-esque “Hairy Man” creature. I can close my eyes now, here in middle-age, and I still see this Hairy Man, who, by the way, doesn’t scare me at all. I laugh at all the fantastical things a young child can invent, flying rainbow unicorns, talking cars and the like, and wonder what prompted me to dream up a creature covered in hair. My brother, to this day, often jokes about the Hairy Man, obviously my tale made an impression on him. I guess a good thing is I never saw the Hairy Man again—though I did find a VHS tape on Bigfoot for sale at a Blockbuster Video store in the 1980s, and bought it. I still own it to this day.
Today, at age 57, all I contend with at night are extremely vivid dreams that startle me awake. One of the worst ones was on early Thursday morning, I dreamt that I was being suffocated by a huge black boa constrictor, which had wrapped itself around my head and neck. I know it was an anxiety/stress dream, as I’ve been contending with major stressors all week. I don’t do well with stress these days, and I try to avoid it like the plague, carefully planning my days in predictable segments that keep me calm. But this week didn’t go like that, and I’ve been a wreck, both in waking and non-waking hours.
I’m trying to recite the Serenity Prayer, quietly in my head:
God, grant me the serenity…to accept…the things I cannot change.
The courage to change the things I can.
And the wisdom to know the difference.
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