I don’t like wind. A breeze at the beach — yes, but a full-windstorm — no. Especially in the dark at 3 a.m.
It gets me in an “Edgar Allen Poe” frame of mind. Spooky and unsettled. Gloom and doom.
The house makes funny noises when it’s windy. Tapping. Banging. Slashing. Some are downright scary. It’s hard to blame the cats when they are hiding under the bed.
Is that the Tell-Tale Heart beating or just the windows rattling? Perhaps the lost Lenore tapping at my Chamber Door. (I won’t even go into more recent axe murderers.)
I am fascinated by Poe although his stuff creeps me out. Especially at night. He ranked right above the Grimm Brothers for nightmare material when I was young. His stories haunt you when it’s dark. They make a 3 a.m. visit. The wind sets the stage for evil to play out.
Wind sounds like crying humans or animals whining or beasts dining. None of that is good.
Those are not the sleeping sounds you will find on a white noise machine. We did not buy the Poe version but wouldn’t that be a hoot? It would be a “keep awake” machine rather than something to lull you to sleep. May be helpful at work, especially if you have a night job guarding a large dark warehouse.
The wind releases your fears and your imagination. That’s a bad duo carousing at 3 a.m. It’s the stuff that makes me pull the covers over my head and pray for morning. Sometimes I pray so hard, I promise to be good. (Never make promises you can’t keep!)
Then the wind stops, the sun shines and you wonder what the ruckus was about.
Until next time…