Halloween fertile ground for the imagination

The question arises at this time of year like a yellow moon: what are you going to be for Halloween?

It’s a line of inquiry that has been around ever since I was a kid and I’m sure it’ll be here long after I’m gone, too. It’s hard to describe, but there’s a power and thrill associated with being someone or something else. I don’t know if it’s a courage that comes with anonymity when you’re wearing a mask or whether, for one night at least, you get to express yourself in a way you always wished you could, but there’s no doubt young and old alike know what this is about and can’t wait for Oct. 31 to roll around.

It could be that immortality appeals to you so you find a black cape, some shockingly large incisors and a greasy red lipstick (that could be blood given moonlight and imagination!). Voila! Fantasy resolved.

You are not a mild mannered reporter working for a respected Nova Scotia weekly. No, you are in fact Vlad Dracul, scourge of the night, vampire at large with strength beyond all measure: deep, mysterious and fictionally deadly.

We cloak ourselves in possibility, and isn’t that what makes Halloween such a hoot?

The inanimate comes to life; the dead sing; the weak gain power to wreak havoc. I can recall seeing ghoulish, misshapen faces in nightmares long after the final trick or treat had been received or given and heard whispers in the night that enlivened the shadows in my bedroom as I battled to get to sleep.

Was there a creature under my bed whose scaly hand would ensnare my ankle should it slide from beneath the covers? Did the Frankenstein monster really live in my bedroom closet?

Of course not, but I can tell you that door was shut firmly every night because as a kid you just never knew one way or another about stuff like that. If the monster could exist in your imagination, it was entirely possible that doorknob would turn when you weren’t looking and the creature could slip out into the darkness as easily as smoke and oil.

And then you’re alone. With IT. In your bedroom. So scared you have no voice with which to call for help as the stench of rot steals your breath and moldy hands close around your throat.

My scream would drown out the werewolf’s howl every time as the closet door slammed shut and the beast made its escape.

I’ve been telling the kids that when I take them around Friday night I’ll be dressed up too, in full regalia: a devil perhaps, or a pirate. Maybe Superman, a warlock, or Wolverine.

The answer’s the same every time: “No, Dad!”

You can’t go back and they know it. Halloween is for kids; a time for them to explore worlds that go way beyond the kitchen table, classroom, playground and everything else in their lives. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.

I’m guilty as sin. I asked the question about a month ago and it has persisted ever since. “What are you going to be for Halloween?”

It’s a tradition too precious to surrender and I’m a strong believer in developing their imaginations. I sowed the seeds on fertile ground and we’ve exhausted a dozen possibilities so far.

Halloween’s not for a few days yet and I know they’ll settle on something good, but with so many choices, nothing will be resolved until the last minute.

Likely at the stroke of midnight, my friends, when the moon is full and bats, crows and creatures populate the trees.