My irrational fear

So, today I am tired, uninspired and have blood splurging out of my lady-bits like Niagara Falls.

The reason I’m exhausted is because I had a nightmare last night. Whether bought on by the hopeless amount of caffeine that flows through my veins,  or the image of blood spraying the toilet bowl every time I wee, it was a pretty horrific dream.

What was this nightmare about? Was it gory? Were there ghosts? Were the people you love hurt? Did you die?

No, No, No and No. It was about a werewolf.

I have always had a fear of werewolves, despite the fact that they don’t exist. I think it comes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askaban. I was only young when it came out, and the scene where Lupins face distorts into a werewolf is terrifying in the darkness of the cinema.

Plus I come from a very rural place, and if I look into the horizon, all I can see is pitch black. Who knows what sort of beasts are lurking in that field, pretending that they don’t exist?

Okay, so having a fear of an imaginary creature can’t be that bad, right?

The thing is, it has actually impacted my life quite a bit.

I went travelling in my gap year, and I stayed in a barn in the fells of Wales. There weren’t any sheep, and that made me think that maybe a wolf had eaten them. There was no toilet where I was staying, so I had to wee outside. But I wouldn’t go out after it was dark in fear that I werewolf would be watching me from the bushes, waiting until I was vulnerable. So I held it in all night, which actually made me very ill in the end and my Mum had to send me a box of medicines and cuppa soup.

So my fear of Werewolves actually made me ill, and still stops me, a 21 year old, from sleeping…

I think I may need professional help.

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