Summer to me means wasps. It’s wasp season. I haven’t seen any building nests around my house just yet, but they’re coming.
If there’s one thing I’m truly afraid of, it’s bees and wasps. I suppose I’m afraid of many things, but those are near the top of the list. I’m not allergic as far as I know, having never been stung by a bee. A wasp has hit me a couple times and it was less than pleasant. I can, though, trace my fear to a very specific dream I had when I was younger.
I was probably 11 or 12 years old. In my dream, I was walking up to the public library in Springtown, where I grew up. Outside the front door, there was a swarm of bees. I kept walking. As I got to the ramp that lead to the door, one of them flew at me. It was massive – at least the size of my head if not larger. It flew at my face and then darted behind me. I woke up screaming.
Since then, I’ve avoided bees and wasps at all costs. When moving into our house now, I was informed that we had those giant wasps that live in the ground in the neighborhood, and I spotted one flying around the neighbor’s yard. It was the stuff of my nightmare, not quite as big as my head but close enough. I saw one of their holes next to our house and thought briefly about calling back the moving truck. During a storm, our neighbor’s tree fell down, revealing a hive of previously unknown bees and trapping me in my house for hours. It’s a rough life, but due to my caution I’ve been safe so far.
Matt Stoker
