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How many ridiculous horror films did I watch in my youth that triggered reams of heart-felt belly laughs? The melodramatic reactions of the silly girls in these stories left me torn between indignation that they should represent women in such a poor light, and hilarity at the over-acting and never-ending screams. I knew in my heart of hearts, at the very core of my being, that frightened or not, I would never react like these feather-brained nincompoops in the movies!
But as fate would have it, I was to be put to the test during my Freshman year at Baylor University. My best friend Susan was my roommate (see the July 14th post on pranking for more adventures with Susan). We lived on the first floor of Collins Hall and had already made some wonderful friends. For the first time in my life I was living in an environment filled with potential friends, and very few authority figures. It was a time for self-discovery and realization. I saw a few friends around me embark on paths of self-destruction, and I began to realize that the truths and morals on which I had been raised were valid and valuable. I quickly saw that I had one of the greatest roommates anywhere.
However I also learned that I (who adored sleeping late) was the only one in our room who could be awakened by an alarm clock. It was my job to stagger out of my bed when Susan's alarm went off and pull her nice warm covers off of her bed so she would eventually wake up. Sometimes even that did not work. I had never known anyone who could sleep more soundly. I remember a couple of times I actually dragged Susan off of her bed onto the cold hard floor where she DID wake up (a little grumpy perhaps)
One night after a few weeks in school, we repeated what was becoming a routine in our room.
It was the sound that woke me at 3:45 in the morning. It wasn't loud, but I had never heard anything like it before. It was between a quivery moaning sound and a scream, but it was not loud at all. The sound was coming from the direction of Susan's bed, but for some strange reason, it was pitch black and I could see nothing. My sleep befuddled brain could not grasp the fact that most of the time the lights in the dorm courtyard shone brightly enough to filter through our window treatments. We had also had to adjust to the constant light coming through the bottom crack of the door because the hallways were kept fully lighted all night long. I did not stop to consider any of this when I woke up to utter darkness, I just felt that something was terribly wrong.
"Susan, What's wrong?" I called urgently. After a few more of the spine chilling sounds coming from the direction of her bed, she finally articulated a few words. With fear in every syllable, she screamed, "THERE'S A MAN IN HERE!" Terror shot through me like a bolt of lightening! What my eyes could not see, my mind supplied in horrifying detail. I could envision the man standing over Susan preparing to plunge a knife into her. Fear did not inhibit my vocal chords as it had Susan's. With sound so loud it woke students six floors above us, I released a scream of epic proportions! As I heard myself shrieking the hysteria began to take control of me. My scream was followed by Susan's repeated mantra, "THERE'S A MAN IN HERE!' As soon as she finished her cry, another scream ripped from my lungs still loud enough to wake the dead. Again Susan's shouted warning! Again my shriek! Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my mind I began to realize that he must surely be gone by now, but the screams would not quit erupting from me and I was completely helpless to stop them. This was actual bonafide hysteria. This would be humiliating if my mind ever returned to my control.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, light began to shine under the door, and through our window. Followed very quickly by our door being thrown open and our sweet dorm mother rushing in and coming immediately to my bed to gather me in her arms. "What happened?" she asked quickly, looking in my eyes. The crowd of girls huddled outside our door looking frightened and concerned all looked to me for answers.
"Uhhhhh...mneehhhh....uhhhhh" I stated articulately as I looked to Susan for answers. I pointed at her since my ability to speak logically had not yet been restored. The focus changed. Our dorm mother quickly switched bedsides to help Susan. My mind was beginning to reboot. Susan explained what happened. I knew almost immediately that we had supernatural intervention from God when she began her explanation with the statement, "I woke up because I felt my covers move." Only Susan and I knew how impossible that was without God's help. She could see the vague outline of the man standing over her and she began to scream. At least she was trying to scream. Fear made her voice do strange things. The noise was enough to cause the intruder to flee, and to wake me up.
As I sat in my bed soaking in the lights that were now shining brightly, awareness gradually returned. With it came the question of the unusual darkness. Our dorm mother explained that the reason it took a few minutes to respond to us is that the breakers had been turned off for the entire dorm. She had to turn them back on before she could find her way to our room. (I remembered the vision I had of the man holding a knife over Susan and thought she should have come to us first, but I was still experiencing some shock) Two policeman arrived and began their investigation. They discovered that the intruder had prepared a window at the end of the hall earlier in the day. In the middle of my interview I remembered the orange juice cans on top of my head. It is a strange feeling when you want to be taken seriously, but you realize that you look like an imbecile.
Events of this magnitude have surprising ripple effects. The biggest shock to me was how quickly the word spread all over campus. But another surprise to me was the physical reaction I had to deal with for a while. Susan and I got an early start to the day since there was NO way we could go back to sleep in that room. In fact, Susan packed her bag and went home to Abilene for a few days. I spent the next night or two in my big sister's place. Lynda was a Junior at Baylor.
I made my way across the quiet, foggy campus that Fall morning to see Lynda, after the police had finally left. The walk was beautiful with early morning light fighting to burn through the fog and sparkling on the moss-draped trees. A loud snap echoed to my left and I literally dove to the ground with an involuntary cry and my arms covered my head for protection. It was a squirrel scampering from tree to tree. It would be years before I heard of PTSD, but I suppose these were symptoms.
Months later the police captured a serial rapist who they believe was the intruder in our room. We were glad to know that he was behind bars, but by then I had lost my wonderful roommate. She transferred mid-year to another University. We remain friends today although we live half a continent apart. But I have to live with the realization that I am not above reacting like those feather-brained nincompoops from the low budget horror movies. It is a little embarrassing.
Well done! Had me freaked out just reading that.
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