A fear of spiders

I’ve never liked spiders.

Correction, I’m terrified of them.

Too many legs, too many eyes, too small, too big, too hairy.

Little horrid balls of legs. I hated the things, screamed and got someone else to squish them because I couldn’t get near them. I spent every day in fear of seeing them.

But then there was something weird.

It was small, barely came up to my knee. Bipedal. Grey and fuzzy, with yellowish eyes and a mouth with cartoonish, jagged teeth. It came in the middle of the night, while I boredly surfing through various tumblr crap at 1 in the morning.

It tapped on the window, scaring the crap out of me. I got up and looked at it, and.... Let it in, for some reason. It clambered through the window and fell onto the floor. It got up and dusted itself off, and presented a three-fingered hand toward me, nodding its head toward it’s outstretched hand and smiling reassuringly. Once again, i found myself doing what it wanted for some reason. I crouched down and gently shook it’s hand, and the world blurred around me.

I found myself sitting in a vast cavern, dark but still visible, that smelled strange and somehow comforting, like a grandma’s perfume.

A sort of stage was before me, with white velvet curtains and stone floors. The little grey thing was sitting by my side, and gave me another reassuring smile as the others came, filling up the stone steps around us.

They all looked similar to the grey one, but all had their different shapes and sizes.

A much taller, spindly one that was about the same size as me that looked as fragile and seethrough as glass, with a clearly visible beating heart.

A brown, furry one with dark stripes and a host of what looked to be her children perched on her back.

One was especially tiny, with massive eyes, and had a colorful little cape of rainbow fur.

Another was a large, brown one that seemed especially timid and was petting a small frog.

One by one, they all went up to the stage and showed their talents. A small, orange one could shoot a fly out of the air. Another used a net to catch prey. One could use it’s tough, strangely patterned rump as a shield, all unique and special. As the night went on and they regaled me with wonders, they seemed to change. More eyes, more legs. Two buck-tooth like fangs. Torsos shifted into abdomens and thoraxes. The rope and nets became webbing. I looked around and saw nothing but spiders, weird, adorable, spiders, and I didn’t mind. The gray one, from the very beginning, cocked it’s head at me, and I saw that little smile through its dark black eyes.

I shook it’s tiny, two-clawed paw.

I woke up in my bed, birds chirping at the dawn outside my window.

I shook my head. I had some sort of dream. I couldn’t remember much of it. I moved to get up and make myself some food.

There was a tiny, gray spider that scuttled across the floor underneath my bed.

I smiled for some reason I couldn’t recall.

Left in the corner, unnoticed, underneath my bed, there was a small white note, velvety to the touch.

“All life is precious, no matter how small.

Remember the Spoyds.”