Fantasy Island

Going to the movies is not all fun and games. A good one can alter brain cells forever. In fact, so much of my life has been hindered by movies I have seen, it's hard to take the risk anymore. "Psycho," which I absorbed into every pore at age 16, made it impossible for me to ever take a shower at night when I'm home alone, and believe me, this can be annoying after a day of mud-wrestling. (I hate going to bed dirty.) "Jaws" totally removed swimming in the ocean as a vacation option. "The Wizard of Oz" made me afraid of monkeys, especially those flying ones in the little red hats, and "A Star is Born" ruined me for dashing men who drink.

I am reminded of all this because yesterday morning, strapped into the chair under the big light, waiting for the anesthetic to start working, my wonderful, sweet, kind dentist slowly morphed into Sir Laurence Olivier before my very eyes, and by the time he picked up his drill I was in a cold sweat. I remained on high alert for the entire procedure, waiting. Helpful hint: If you haven't ever seen "Marathon Man," don't -- at least not if you still have teeth.

Today I am going to Monhegan Island, a fantasy world where there are no movies, no Internet, spotty cell phone service and no dentists. It should be a totally relaxing few days, unless there are Others there. (Too bad I watched "LOST.")