By day I might be a short sighted super nerd, but by night, I’m absolutely fucking useless. From birth I was blessed with not only acute short sightedness, but also complete night blindness. It’s no big deal most of the time, and always a good excuse to hold hands with someone when walking at night. It’s all good, as long as they notify you of low hanging tree branches (Nom), or move the furniture during the night (Mel).

As a kid though, I suffered recurring nightmares about running in the dark, from something I couldn’t see, and don’t know what it was, to somewhere I couldn’t see, and didn’t know where. The whole nightmare was just fear, and running and blackness, until the ground disappeared… and I fell, and fell, and fell. Free falling until I woke up in a panic, alone, and in darkness. But I could feel my bed, and pillow, and put a foot out of bed and touch the floor. If I could touch the floor, everything was ok.

The closest I came to living the nightmare, was early 1986, when I was 13. I was keeping to myself in my bedroom, alternating between homework and building an antenna in the frame of my bed head. I had plans to install a radio and speakers, so I could listen to music at night. I already had a reading light, and most of the wiring done. It was gonna be sweet.

My Mum and my Stepfather, Reno were arguing in the lounge room, which wasn’t uncommon. I had no plans to surface any time soon. The arguing bothered me, but there was little I could do about it, and I was used to it. Adults just spent their time drinking until they found something to fight about, pretty much. Some days were better than others. Tomorrow morning I would go to school before they woke, and then rinse and repeat.

The argument was getting heated and moved into the bedroom, which was right next to mine. I have no idea what it was about – blocking it out was the best option in these situations, and had become instinct to me.

I just remember reality rushing back in, as instinct kicked in a second time. I heard a slap or punch, my mother scream, and an awful thud. In a moment, I reacted, without any conscious thought, just pure instinctive reaction. I ran into Mums bedroom, saw her laying on the ground next to the dressing table, with Reno standing to the right of the doorway, fists clenched, arms wide. I saw a pair of steel capped boots on the floor, picked one up and lunged at him full force. I had hoped to clock him in the head and take him off his feet, but he dodged the swing and came back at me, grabbing me by the throat and pinning me against the wall. I saw the fire in his eyes, as he tightened his grip on my throat and told me if I moved, he would fucking kill me. I believed him.

At that moment, Mum regained consciousness. Reno went on the defence, and released me, as she got to her feet, blood leaking from a wound in the back of her head, where she had hit the dressing table on the way down. We had lost the fight, now it was time for flight. Mum grabbed my hand, and we ran for the front door. She held my hand tight as we ran into the night. Running in complete darkness brought back the nightmare, and I gripped her hand so bloody tight, and tried not to stumble, tried not to slow her down… tried not to fall. Using my ears, listening to Mum’s footsteps, reading the motion in her arms to detect changes in elevation, praying. I used all at my disposal to keep upright, to keep moving forward.

We made it to the hospital, where Mum was stitched up, after her ‘fall’ in the bedroom, then went home for the car. Still drunk, still angry, Mum sped off into the night, winding the speedo off the clock, at over 90mph in our International ute, along the winding country roads, as we headed for a hotel in Mansfield for the night. I gripped the seat, and tried to calm her down, to no avail. Finally, upstairs in the pub, we managed to shower, and lay our heads down for the night. It wasn’t flash, but it was safe. At last.

Somehow, a couple of days later, all was forgiven, and life resumed, as abnormal as it always was. We were now in the grace period, so things would be ok for a while.

I guess it’s sometimes necessary to face your fears, to do what you think is impossible. My nightmares were gone, replaced by reality; a reality from which I couldn’t reach out and touch the floor.