Are childhood fears really our primeval gut instincts that have hung around since we lived in dark caves? Is our fear of the dark really a fear of that unknown disease lurking within, the unforeseen malevolent attacker, or the unguessable moment of our own death?
What wakes YOU in the night in a cold sweat? A footstep on your stair? A passing car headlight coasting round the room that could be the torch light of an intruder? Are adult fears just extensions of those childhood worries – is that a vampire, a witch, a lecherous neighbour?
I think that late at night that probably translates into - will I amount to anything? Will I be found deficient in social graces and die alone? Will I achieve something significant? Will I ever escape the daily threat of poverty?
Studying our human fears displays the underbelly of society, which most of us prefer remains hidden. Dwelling on such black thoughts is maudlin, morose, unpalatable – even though the sweaty thrills of horror movies, books and films are undeniable.
But without the mocking shape of what torments us most it would be harder to picture the ephemeral qualities of the things we do aspire to – empathy to overcome our fears, gentility in the face of man’s inhumanity, optimism that our best will be good enough if we believe it to be so. The black mask of Vader counterbalanced by the glowing white gown of Leia? (I can’t believe I used a Star Wars analogy – will I ever live it down? I’ll be followed slavishly by small boys for days... probably by grown men too...)
Who wants to be the good guy? Doesn’t he sound lame compared to the swashbuckling, wise-cracking, scarred, damaged, fiendish bad guy? Even from that description I know which one I’m inviting out to the bar tonight.
Go figure...
