nightmare aficionado

I think what I call paranoia is actually really just a paralyzing fear.  A fear of people.  A fear of the things that are there.  A fear of the things that aren't there. 

I never went out on Sunday.  I didn't want to.  My high school self, the self that I can remembering admiring the most, would have gone in high spirits.  She would have brought a friend or two.  She would have had fun.  Where is she now?  I wonder.  And where are those friends of hers?

Before I go into a lot of detail about my fears, I should mention that I am quite the horror movie aficionado.  I have attended horror movie conventions.  I have hobbed knobs with everyone from George Romero to Robert "Freddy Kreuger" Englund themselves.  I love having horror nights with my brother.  Lights down low, movie on, nothing to protect you, but your own blanket.  I love being scared.  I think haunted houses are like religious events.  It's like a drug to me and it has been since I was a little kid.

I get scared still, but that used to be half the fun.  Anymore, I don't know.  I have nightmares a lot lately.  When they aren't about clowns (one of my greater fears), they are about real life horrors.  The other night I dreamed about my ex.

I dreamed that he was in my life again.  That I picked him up while he was walking down the street.  That he tried to get into my pants.  That I seriously considered letting him.  To the casual observer who knows nothing about J.R., this wouldn't seem so bad.  Maybe a little strange, but not bad.  To anyone who knows the history though, it's beyond bad.  J.R. was the death of a part of me.  After years of abuse (mental and physical), the relationship ended when he raped me in my own bed.  

Then last night, I had another nightmare.  A nightmare that caused me to wake up extremely early and extremely tense.  I had a dream that my mother was sending my brother and I off to a concentration camp.  In the heat of the moment, I stabbed her with a pen repeatedly.  Then I started packing the strangest things in my bag: barbies, books and my prized dream journal.  

What's funny about this is that I am also big into World War II events.  I know more about Hitler than the average person.  I LOVE watching anything about Anne Frank.  I mean, I have 2 different versions of her story on DVD and I want a 3rd that I recently saw.  The thought of a concentration camp kills me.  If I had been around at the time, I would've been the "Miep" of the whole thing and hid Anne and her family in my attic.  

Now, when I am awake I am in a constant state of fear.  I can't sit with my back to doors.  I feel like someone, real or zombie will be creeping up behind me, waiting to scare me, eat me, kill me.  And how do I stop it? 

Should I stop watching the horror movies that at one time made me who I am?  Will that really work when I'm having other sorts of nightmares as well?  Should I stop watching WWII documentaries?  Should I stop reading Anne Frank once a year?  Will that help?  

And what of J.R.?  I haven't been with him since I was 21 and yet his presence in my life is still so immediate that I dream of him regularly.  If it were only that easy to erase the past memories.  

I don't know what to do.  As I write this, I am in a well lit room, with windows open and the sun is up.  Yet, I'm still scared of what's behind me.  

I just want it to stop.