A couple weekends ago, I came down with coulrophobia. Unfortunately, I have yet to shake the disease.
Because we are Halloween masochists, my friends and I drove out to the Lancaster area for Field of Screams
, which can be best described as a horror-movie-set-haunted-house on steroids. Sprinting from room to room offers a completely new, dizzying experience, with different themes and scary people to touch you or chase you down with chainsaws.
But this one room. This one room was unlike any other...
It zigzagged. The walls were tiled with 2x2" black and white checkers. There was a strobe light. I was holding my friend's hand and trying to keep my eyes shut through the flickering.
Out of nowhere, sitting in the corner, tiny and dejected, was this freaking clown. It looked so far away. Then suddenly, not one second later, it was IN MY FACE. The strobe light betrayed my perception of its speed and distance. I cried out. Please, just take me now, and do it quickly...
Hence my newfound coulrophobia, or fear of clowns.
But is coulrophobia a real fear? And, for that matter, what is fear?
Fear: a primer
A woman—known simply in the neuroscience world as S.M.—wa . . . More