One is death by drowning. I’ve always had this intense fear of dying from drowning. I don’t know what causes it. As a child, I grew up spent as much time in the water as I could. I could spend all day in a pool with a mask and snorkel, simply floating along. When we’d go to the beach, I’d be out there trying to test the boundaries of where I could stand and where I couldn’t. Loved body surfing and riding on those big green and yellow canvas rafts. They seemed to last for years in comparison to the ones we have nowadays that seem to last one summer, if that.
But something about not being able to breathe and having water slowly fill my lungs, allowing me to drown, my eyes open, fully aware I was going away scares me out the crap (as my five year old puts it). In fact, when I had surgery 12 years ago to correct an issue brought on by wisdom teeth extraction, causing me to have packing in my nostrils, I had a dream I was drowning, only to awake to realize my covers had slipped up over my mouth, stifling my breathing.
That fails in comparison to what really scares me on this Earth.
Oh, another thing that scares me, horror movies where there is no sight of the monster. The most effective film to do this was The Blair Witch Project. I didn’t sleep for three days because I kept thinking about that ending. The fact that we never once saw a witch or anything didn’t matter. My imagination had already dreamt up something more sinister than the filmmakers could have inserted into that film. That image haunted me for days. Even though I had known it was fake, it still shook me to the core to think about an evil spirit lurking in the woods, waiting to be captured on film at any moment. It was just as jarring to have seen the alien in Signs as it passed by the camera on a “home video”. Of course, it doesn’t hurt when you have a stinger note to accompany the reveal.
Still, the real thing that scares me most is out of this world.
Yes, as the title suggests, the thing that scares me the most is The Hatless Yokam.
You see, there are two Dwight Yokams. There's the cowboy hat wearing, country singing, fast as you Dwight and then there's the hatless, psycho home invading, abusive boyfriend Dwight that makes my inner child hide under the covers. He is like bizarro Clint Howard. He scares me so. The Hatless Yokam nibbles on my soul.
Hatted and Hatless Yokam