Know what that is? It’s a fear of dolls (of course it is). Why do I know that? Because I looked it up. Why did I want to know? Oh, that’s the story now, isn’t it?

For the record, I don’t have a fear of dolls. I do, however, don’t like when they look at me. This is not just limited to dolls but any inanimate object with a face – or face like. Can’t be looking at me. It creeps me out.

How did this develop? Why would it not? To have something watching me unblinking. That’s not right.

But perhaps it can be traced back to the time I watched Child’s Play (1988). Which is a little sad when I started writing this because that means I was about 15 when it came out. Even older when I watched it because I watched it at home after its theatrical release. I really thought I was younger when that came out. That makes this a tad more embarrassing.

I have never been a fan of the horror genre. Although I have watched a few. I can’t remember if it was A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) or Poltergeist (1982) that I “accidentally watched” but somehow I saw them both. Both movies messed me up pretty good. I couldn’t fall asleep with the television on well into adulthood thanks to the latter.

If you are wondering how someone accidentally watches a movie it’s quite simple. I chose to play in the same room my sister (who could always watch those types of movies with no lasting after-effects) was watching it. I didn’t technically “see” the movie but I heard it and that was enough. When I couldn’t sleep at night my sister got in trouble even though she tried to shoo me out of the room. That really was on me. I knew what I was doing and thought I could handle it. I was wrong. I could not.

Back to Chucky though which came out when I was older. Apparently, the lasting residual effect it has on me is the fact I can’t let inanimate objects look at me. One year for Christmas, we all received dolls with our names on them at work. I keep mine on my desk but I have to turn it slightly so it is looking at my co-worker instead. Once she found out what I was doing, she didn’t appreciate it. But it’s good for her to toughen up.

So thanks, Chucky. I appreciate having another irrational fear in my bank. Don’t want to appear too normal or anything.

It could be worse. While trying to figure out the name of this phobia I stumbled upon hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. Whoever came up with that is just mean.