“Denver dad fights off home invader attempting to get to his children’s bedroom: ‘Somebody’s in our house’”
It’s a terrifying headline.
The husband and wife were in bed. The kids sleeping down the hall. They heard footsteps on the stairs.
A stranger was in the house.
The intruder refused to leave. The husband pushed him down the stairs and they waited for the police.
No one was hurt and the intruder was arrested.
But the fear lingered.
I know that fear, because it happened to me.
Fifteen years ago, when I was living in New York with my then husband and twenty-one year old stepson.
It was well after midnight when I heard someone stumbling up the stairs, bumping into things and making a racket.
Zach home drunk, I thought, irritated. Then rolled over and went back to sleep. Our two big dogs, a rottweiler mix and a pitbull, kept snoring.
The next morning, I awoke early to get ready for yoga class. When I opened the door to my office and workout space, there was a strange young man sleeping on the couch who reeked of alcohol.
My pitbull, Oscar, sniffed the guy as he snored. I backed out of the room, truly annoyed now.
Not only had Zach come home drunk, he must have been so wasted that he let his friend sleep in my office.
I went to my yoga class and forgot about it.
When I got home three hours later, my husband and Zach were just eating breakfast in the kitchen.
“What’s with your friend sleeping in my office?” I asked Zach. “The whole room stinks like beer.”
“What friend?” Zach asked.
“The drunk one you brought home last night,” I said. “He’s asleep on my couch.”
Jeff and Zach laughed, certain I was kidding. I assured them I was not.
“You mean there’s an intruder in our house?” Jeff’s face went pale.
The two of them grabbed baseball bats and headed to my office. The dogs followed, curious. I stayed in the kitchen, frightened now.
I heard some yelling, and then the sound of people on the stairs. The front door opened and closed.
“He’s gone,” Jeff announced.
He was a drunk student from the nearby college who broke in, thought he was home, took off his shoes, put his takeout in our fridge, and passed out.
We didn’t press charges, since it seemed like a dumb kid thing to do. And Jeff reinforced the lock on the back door.
But for the next week I had anxious knots in my stomach at night every time I heard noises outside the bedroom door.
There’s an intruder in the house.
In the New York Post article, the wife is quoted:
“The fear of what’s going to happen when my husband opens the door, that’s what replays in my mind the most,” she said. “Your gut just kicks in, and the fear of the unknown is really terrifying.”
Here’s the fascinating thing:
It wasn’t the unknown that terrified me.
It was the imagination of what the unknown might be.
Without our imagination, a sound is just a sound. A creak is wood settling.
With imagination, the sound becomes a monster.
Fear isn’t a warning signal. It’s a storyteller…and it’s very good at writing horror.
Every day we face the unknown. I can’t predict what will happen in the next five minutes, let alone the next five months, or five years.
Fear fills in the gaps with th worse case scenario and tells us:
Don’t try.
Don’t dream.
Stay small. Stay safe.
But what if fear is just a thought?
The unknown is simply the not-yet known.
When we stop listening to the scary fiction, life feels spacious again.
This is what we do inside a DragonHeart Portal Session.
Together, we turn toward the unknown and discover…there is actually nothing to be afraid of.
Only possibility and freedom.
Only the truth of who you are when fear dissolves.
Last chance this year
I have just a few spots for DragonHeart Portal sessions left, and then I’m done for 2025.
If your imagination has been running the show and keeping you from what you desire…
I would love to support you in claiming what you’re here to create.
Book your DragonHeart Portal session here.
Yours in love and play,
Steph 🐉♥️
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