BEGINNING OF CONSCIOUS FAITH IN GOD: NIGHT TERRORS As a little blond boy I was very fearful and prone to night-terrors. I was very afraid of the dark. When the house at 3642 Belvedere Crescent was dark and quiet, during the loneliest watches of the night, I knew in my nerve-endings exactly what went bump in the night. The house made noises, as houses tend to do. My lifelong hypersensitivity to sound (as per my Asperger’s Syndrome) was my worst enemy when combined with the darkness, the silence, and the isolation. I had an unusually powerful imagination that conjured all manner of nameless, unseen horrors. They came unbidden and unwanted. For years I slept with the blanket over my head with just my mouth and nose uncovered, so I could breathe. I used to sleep with one hand covering my ear, so I wouldn’t hear evil voices whispering to me from inside the darkness. I held my breath, strained my ears to listen to the silence, to sample its texture. I remember b...