My experiences with the Big Bad Wolf

Haunting wolves turned my sweet dreams into the worst of nightmares.

Luckily, I did not end up in his stomach.

Laying your head on your pillow and finally closing your eyes might be the best feeling in the world if all your dreadful worries are washed away by the bliss of sleep. At least, in an ideal world. Some lucky people might experience this bliss often, but I am not one of them.

Instead, I dream about killer dolls, tiger babysitters, and other horrifying ordeals. But above all those monstrosities, there was one recurring villain who would plague my dreams almost every night when I was younger: wolves.

Wolves may not seem so scary to you now, but believe me, they are not what a 6-year-old wants to see every night. After my mom told me the story of “Little Red Riding Hood” for the first time, I dreamed about a wolf babysitter who let me go into the backyard and suddenly started cackling, proceeding to chase me. Confused and scared, I ran all over my backyard, but just as the wolf was about to get me, I woke up.

The wolf appeared in my dreams every night after that, no matter what the dream was about, ranging from a family movie night to a haunting camping trip.

One particularly memorable dream was when I dreamed about going to retrieve a friend’s birthday cake for their birthday party. I opened the door to their house to see the wolf sitting at the table, staring at me through the dark with glowing eyes.

Frantically, I started to run out of the house, but the wolf suddenly ordered me to tie my shoes. I sat down crying, futilely trying to tie my shoes. Unfortunately, at age 6, I didn’t know how to.

All of a sudden, my uncle came out of the house in pajamas, his hair sticking out everywhere and eyes squinted. Standing beside the wolf, he began to yell at me for not being able to tie my shoes. Convinced that my uncle was evil, I began to cry even louder, wailing like the crybaby I was. My uncle began to sneeze uncontrollably and yell at the same time, causing me to laugh and cry until my ribs hurt.

Eventually, the wolf began to disappear from my dreams, replaced by vocabulary tests with red-inked grades of 22%, or visions of my homework ripped to shreds by an evil paper shredder. Despite still having nightmares, I’m thankful for not having to deal with scary wolves who have beefs with little girls anymore.