I remember watching that classic horror film, The Fog, for the first time as a kid and having nightmares for days. Something about that movie really messed with my head. Perhaps is the was helpless Adrienne Barbeau stuck in a radio station, or maybe it was the idea of undead pirates pissed off about their stolen gold. At any rate, a healthy caution as born in me during those long nights. I am always more wary on foggy nights.
I think it's important to point out that this healthy caution is not in anyway the development of Homichlophobia - the fear of fog - but rather an awareness of possible unseen hazards. Though the idea of someone lurking just out of view, obscured by wafts of foggy mist, is particularly hair raising, I don't feel that persistent pressure of "eyes upon me".
I do find also, in writing fiction, that fog is a very useful tool when the intent is to build suspense. Tonight, as I write this from the Harbormaster's Office, the fog is thick in Hyannis. The visibility is down to 1/4 mile. I am not fearful, but when I drive home I will be mindful of hazards, particularly if those hazards appear to be zombie like sailors of pirate vessels in New England.
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