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If you know me, then you know how deeply I despise the dark.

If you don't, then let me attempt to explain. Me and the dark... oil and water. I sleep with my tv on (sound low) just so I have a flicker of light at night. When I used to camp in the woods, I put glow-in-the dark stars on the roof of our camper so I could open my eyes and see... something... anything, besides utter and complete darkness. My college roommates (the ones that loved me), would wait until I fell asleep and then turn the lights off... and take my glasses off since I always fell asleep with them on because hate opening my eyes and not being able to see anything.

I can't explain why I fear the dark... I simply do. And no, there were no traumatic experiences in my childhood that lead to such an irrational fear.

I couldn't sleep alone in my room after seeing Ghostbusters. Ghostbusters. It was Ghostbusters, for crying out loud! Not Freddie or Jason - and don't get me started on those.

I suppose it could be fear associated with the unknown... not knowing what lurks in the shadows. If I lay in complete darkness at night, my overly active imagination goes into overdrive and I see movement, hear creaks, see shifts in shadows. And all those things make me wonder who or what is out there. Makes me think that perhaps the hot-dog eating, green Slimer followed me home from the theater.

Goofballish, I know. Laugh it up.

But that fear nearly cost me a broken body tonight.

I was working at a wedding reception in the Hollywood Hills. It was dark. The cars were parked on a hill a far run away... in the pitch, black dark. No street lights. The hills on either side of the street were lined with tress that blocked out any possibility of moonlight (which is not nearly enough anyway).

I began up the hill... alone.

Because I had been running for quite some time past all the cars that were lining the street, I slowed my pace to a brisk walk.

Up until that point, I consistently reminded myself - I am grown. I am an adult. Then I began lying to myself - There is nothing scary about the dark. There's no critters with sharp teeth waiting for you at the top of the hill.

That's when the noises started.

A twig cracked to my left. A few leaves rustled to my right.

My breathing quickened, but I reminded myself that I was within a holler's call of the wedding. "Right," I thought. "There's a DJ playing loud music, a transportable generator humming just outside the party. No one will hear your cry for help."

If I were even able to scream. Truly, when fear hits me (fear of anything) I get silent. I don't make a sound.

So there I was... alone... deep in the woods... well, sort of. And I was armed with nothing more than the remote entry clicker for the silver Benz I was looking for.

Realizing that the small sound from the device would do little more than aggravate the rabid coyote that was likely stalking me from the trees, I started to run. I ran like my side didn't hurt and the blister on my heel didn't exist.

So anyway, there I am running. And I decided that I had better check over my shoulder to be sure the dang coyote wasn't hot on my trail.

But... the thing is... well, when you were a kid, did you ever try to look behind yourself as you rode a bicycle? Didn't work very well, did it? You probably swerved off into a ditch, huh? No? It was just me? Regardless, that's what I did while I was running in the dark tonight.

I looked over my shoulder and started to swerve in the road. (I had been running down the center of the road because you know how people hide under cars that are parked on the side of the street so they can grab at your ankles in the dark... right?)

Right, the swerving. Just as I turned my head back to look forward, my body came into contact with the side of a parked car. Nearly knocked the breath out of me. Think I bruised my hip bone. And severely damaged my pride... even if I was the only one there to witness the act.

Dang stupid dark and imaginary coyotes.

The twigs cracking were probably squirrels and the leaves rustling were probably armadillos rooting around.

No! There were coyotes, I tell you! A whole pack! With huge, sharp teeth. No wait, they were fangs! And they were starved! And rabid, I'm sure.

Dang stupid dark.

Luckily for me, the car I hit was the silver Benz. I beeped the remote thingy and the lights came on.

Oh, sweet light.

(NOTE: I am sleepy and writing this at lightning speed - excuse the grammar... I will try to edit it tomorrow.)