I have a recurring nightmare in which i wake up beneath my blankets, alone in my bed, and try as i might I can't seem to emerge from beneath the covers.
Mild at first, but my anxiety grows as i claw at the fabric before i eventually break out into a full panic in an attempt to resurface into something familiar, into safety, but i never do; i remain beneath a layer of captivity until I'm yanked from sleep into…
"Nostalgia" and the feeling of reconciling with the age of time seems to most often be described as a positive feeling, one that constantly affords us a comfortable or pleasant look into the past that, when done "right" seems to bond us through shared cultural experiences.
Skinamarink is maybe the first time in my life a nostalgic feeling was weaponized against me and my personhood to illicit the most visceral feeling of dread and anxiety throughout. Pleasant things like watching…
