Bears in the Night

The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. It’s our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows. ~ Brené Brown

“WHOOOOOOO!!!” The vivid hoot of the night owl awoke me from my slumber, and I cried out in fright. Except…it wasn’t a real owl; I opened my eyes to the darkness of the room and slowly came to my senses. It seemed as dark as the midnight, but it couldn’t have been much past nine o’clock. Maybe if I keep squinting, I’ll be able to see what the little red numbers say on that clock sitting on the dresser in this now distant memory of my childhood bedroom. The light in the hall cast looming shadows onto the walls. Hearing the cry, my mom rushed into my room to see what was wrong. Three-year-old me with blonde hair at the time, wearing my favorite blue pajamas, was crying my big brown eyes out while sitting on my bed. My mom in her navy blue robe adorned with tiny pink and white flowers, held me close and listened to me describe the scary owl who had felt so real. Like a night-light in the darkness, she came to the rescue and assured me…it had just been a bad dream…

(…continued from above) Prior to this scene, she had been reading me a bedtime story. The Berenstain Bears book, Bears in the Night. In the story, the bears are in bed and hear a faint “Whooooo” in the distance. Curious, they make the journey out the window, down the tree, over the wall, under the bridge, around the lake, between the rocks, through the woods, and up Spook Hill, whereupon a large owl is ominously perched. He has a piercing look in his eyes, staring the bears down as they walk up the hill. And then my mom’s animated reading voice makes that spirited hoot owl sound. That “WHOOOOOOO!!!” sends the group of young bears flying down Spook Hill, through the woods, between the rocks, around the lake, under the bridge, over the wall, up the tree, in the window, back home in bed, where they fall fast asleep in peace. All the while mama bear is doing some sewing work downstairs, unaware of their journey up Spook Hill. No nightmares; no need for comfort…just sweet dreams.

This nightmare starring the owl is my earliest clear memory in life…a foreshadowing of much scarier fears that had yet to haunt me. I’ve always had a keen awareness of my strong sensory perception, overactive imagination, and bigger-than-the-sky feelings. While this is a blessing when it comes to creative writing and remembering long-past memories in vivid detail, it hasn’t come without a curse: wild dreams, intrusive thoughts, and insomnia. I’m grateful the sleeplessness is now a thing of the past, but it didn’t subside without mindfulness and discipline with daily habits. While it seems so basic to say prioritizing sleep health is vital to overall health, it isn’t easy to put into practice…especially when you’ve always been a night owl WHOOOOOOO is prone to late night musing under the moon.

Of course there is an ever-present dichotomy to the darkness surrounding that rocky sphere orbiting our planet. While one side has caused fear, the other side has been a source of great comfort. Nothing gets me in the writing mood quite like the backdrop of a midnight blue sky lit up with tiny diamonds and the wondrous light of a full moon. I think it’s all in what we choose to focus on; our reality becomes what we dwell upon. The darkness need not be defined by dreaded horrors in our head; it can also be a downtown street adorned with soft lights on a hot summer night, with a saxophone on the corner singing it’s whole heart out up to the deepest blue. Some minds may scoff at such a hopeless romantic image, but I say it’s pure goodness just waiting to be experienced by those longing for more than what meets the night owl’s enigmatic eye.

In her book The Gifts of Imperfection, Brené Brown says, “The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. It’s our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows.” I think this quote perfectly sums up my journey of fear trying to steal my joy. Personally, I think the ending of Bears in the Night is a little unrealistic. Maybe it needs a sequel where the bears wake up from a nightmare after their journey up Spook Hill. Mama bear comforts them, and they learn about overcoming their fears. Maybe that’s the book I need to write about my own journey…finding light and courage in the midst of fear. I imagine that book would start with a little girl having a bad dream about a night owl…

Chapter 1: Bears in the Night

“WHOOOOOOO!!!” The vivid hoot of the night owl awoke me from my slumber, and I cried out in fright. Except…it wasn’t a real owl; I opened my eyes to the darkness of the room and slowly came to my senses. It seemed as dark as the midnight, but it couldn’t have been much past nine o’clock. Maybe if I keep squinting, I’ll be able to see what the little red numbers say on that clock sitting on the dresser in this now distant memory of my childhood bedroom...

Btw, there actually are some Berenstain Bears books about courage, bad dreams, and fear of the dark. I might have to add those to my reading list for old times’ sake. 🙂