Thursday, October 29, 2009

Jaws was my first scary movie, and not even all of Jaws--just the snatches of it I caught, peeking around the corner into the living room where the grownups were watching it on tv. I don't remember what it was that I saw of the movie, because the nightmares it gave me took up all available fear of sharks space in my brain.

My dreams that night were of a swimming pool bordered by a shark tank, a plexiglass wall like at Sea World separating them and a comical red button the trigger to raise the wall. My family was in the pool, swimming and chatting and splashing, until a hand reached over and hit the button. I never saw who was behind it because I was too busy screaming while the sharks swam in and started eating my family. I remember watching my grandfather pulled under by a leg, the water clouding pink and then red with blood. Some of them scrambled out of the pool and ran away, and that is when the sharks started to walk.

Even still that nightmare is near the top of the list of the scariest dreams I've ever had.

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