That Old Sinking Sensation

I am terrified of heights. They frighten me to the point of panic. Needless to say I avoid them like the plague; not that it's always possible. I remember taking the cable car to the top of Stone Mountain and being barely able to keep calm. I informed Eileen and her sister that we would be walking down the mountain on the return trip.

Ironically, while the cable car scared me stupid, I was fine once I had solid ground beneath me again, even though I was several hundred feet up.

Elevators, while manageable, sometimes give me a start if I feel a little bit of a lurch or rumble that seems out of place. The fact that an elevator (that I used to use almost daily when I delivered office supplies) at the Georgia DHR plummeted dozens of floors before the emergency brakes stopped it a few floors above the ground doesn't help things. I could very easily have been on the elevator.

Which brings me to my point. One of my most common nightmares is that of stepping onto an elevator and having it drop the minute the doors close. Regardless of whether I'm going up or down, it always falls. I usually wake up before it hits, or the dream manages to switch gears before I hit bottom, so I never actually ride out the whole descent. The strange thing is, though, that this has happened so often that now, when confronted with an elevator in a dream, I take the stairs.