HYSTERIA

         
 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.  We followed our various beauty regimens which on that night included my newest hair discovery.  I learned that if I put my longish straight hair in a ponytail on top of my head, and rolled the ends up on orange juice cans, it gave my stick- straight hair the appearance of body, bounce and thickness the next day.  Of course, I looked a little strange, but sometimes you just have to work toward delayed gratification. Our Wing Ding, Pam checked on us once the dorm was locked down for the night (11:00 pm if I remember correctly) and chastised us as she did every night for not locking our door. We promised we would as we did every night (but did not always follow through).  We finished our class prep, talked and laughed, set our alarms, and finally went to sleep.

          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.

CONFESSIONS OF A NEAR THESPIAN

       
          It is interesting to look back at the twists and turns that have shaped our lives.  What seems to be a spur of the moment decision can actually be a pivotal point in the direction of our lives.   When I graduated from High School in Abilene, Texas, I was destined to be an actress.  After all, I had received "Best Actress" recognition and I knew in my heart that greatness was in my future.  So, I packed my worldly possessions into my ancient hand-me-down car, "Abner", and moved to....Waco.  Yes, I was going to Baylor University, and I was pretty sure that I would be the darling of their drama program in no time!  

          I remember the excitement and chaos of class registration.  The two most exciting classes on my schedule were Introduction to Theater and Stage Movement.  All of my other classes were to be endured so I could get to the important business of acting!  In the Introduction class, I quickly learned that if you expected to be any part of the Drama Department at all, your every waking moment belonged to the Theater.  Everyone worked on costumes and sets and sound and agreed to play bit parts in a variety of One Act plays produced by the near-graduates. (I once played a ninety year old black vegetable peddler in Member of the Wedding) Then there was "Stage Movement" on Fridays only. Our little class of about fifteen Theater students were made to sit cross-legged in a circle on the stage while our Professor, let's call her Trelawney, (of Harry Potter fame) sat with us looking proudly at her new batch of mold-able little hopefuls.  I kept looking at the other students in wonder at their ability to keep a straight face.  After all, I had been in classes at Baylor for almost a week, and no matter how "progressive" some of my professors may have considered themselves, they all dressed professionally and sat in actual chairs, at actual desks.  Our Trelawney-esque professor was wearing leotards, jingley jewelry, hair that she may or may not have combed, and an expression that seemed to indicate that she was not altogether present. 

           We learned that we would not just act like trees or rivers or forest animals....we would BECOME them.  We would develop our "Kinesthetic Sense" (that would be some wierd combination of kinetics and aesthetics .  I learned that I too would have to wear leotards and leap like an animal across the stage.  I learned that I could forestall our fearless leader with certain questions and comments (which actually did develop my acting skills).  When asked what emotions certain movements evoked in me, I learned to look earnestly into her eyes and say, "Well...Professor Trelawney, it is just so hard to pin point exactly."  Then she would launch into her favorite speech about how we have so many complex emotions that we have not even given names to most of them.  This speech was good for at least 10 minutes.   After one of my successful stall tactics, I received a fair number of subtle "high fives" from my grateful associates.  
          As the end of the semester began to draw near, I had to pray about my major.  I had to ask myself if I loved drama enough to endure the whole package of classes, activities, and time commitment that the Theater demanded.  The answer was "Heck, No".  So...I packed away my Theater accouterments and ambitions and looked around to determine what lucky department would receive my devotion in the future.   Out of curiosity, I took a journalism class and broadcasting class in the next semester.  I was hooked immediately.  I loved everything about it.    Isn't it strange the way everything in one's life can take an about-face because of one decision.  I had to face the truth...I was not a Thespian.