The two things that I feared as a young child were darkness and thunder. I doubt that that makes me unusual. Upon learning about my fears of these things, my father used a conditioning method to help me.
One or two nights per week, he and I would go into a bathroom. I would sit on a laundry basket while he sat on the side of a tub. It was pitch black in there, but with him along, I was not so scared. We would sit in there for a few minutes while he talked about how the dark was harmless and asked me to see that he was correct. I don't think that it took many of these sessions until the fear was gone.
With the fear of thunder, he took the same approach. In the summer, West Tennessee has some thunderstorms that are dillies. We used to sit out in our yard in metal lawn chairs as a thunderstorm approached and watch the lightening bolts while listening to the peals of thunder. This was not a very wise thing to do, but we did it. He told me the story of Thor, the Norse god who used a hammer as a weapon and threw it at his enemies. The hammer made a terrific noise and struck great sparks as it hit. This was thunder and lightening. Norse gods did not harm humans, so I was not afraid. I could visualize the god Thor, racing along in his chariot while throwing the huge hammer at his adversaries. I did develop a liking for thunderheads and the storms that persists to this day.
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It is ironic that much later in life, one of my most admired mentors was another Thor, but that is another story.
The fears passed, and to that, I must credit my father.
