The reason I can't sleep in big rooms

When I was little I lived out in the country. A thicket of woods was opposite my house across the road and an old barn towards the house’s right. Twenty miles of field separated my house from my neighbor’s in both directions from the road. I loved to play with my little brother’s in our, then, new yard. When we got to choose our rooms we were left the two bedrooms upstairs, My parents master-bedroom was on the ground floor. My two little brothers got the side room that was rectangular and smaller than the one that was left.
My room was large, larger than I was used to. All my life up to that point I was accustomed to the cramped city life I had been brought up in. The room was probably about twenty-five by twenty-five feet. A lot for a ten year old without much furniture to fill it. I had a small box if toys a large empty shelf and a bed. I was allowed to organize my room however I saw fit, I put my shelf on the far wall beside the window and my toy box beside the shelf. Then I had to decide the placement of my bed. I decided I could place it in the center of the room under the ceiling fan so that, in the summer, I could turn it on and have it blow right on top of me. This was a terrible idea unbeknownst to me I had just set in motion one of the single most traumatic events that to this day affect when and where I can sleep.
When I was a kid, I was scared of the dark as most kids were so I had a radio that I would leave on through the night constantly playing music at a low volume, this was a habit I did not break until I was nearly fifteen. The music helped with my fears to some extent. Since I had placed my bed in the middle of the room and I slept on my side I knew my back was to some dark expanse that I could not see, I also had to stare into darkness. In the city you had barely enough space for a bed and a desk, so you were limited to putting your bed in the corner. You could have you back against a firm wall and face your empty room or you could face the wall and easily drift off to sleep to the sounds of traffic. I had none of that, for years my nights were plagued with tossing and turning and the odd sounds of the country, the occasional howl or hoot, the metal scraping sound I never could find the source of, all unpredictable.
When I had dreams in that house they were usually nightmares though I already had a system in place for dealing with night terrors. If and when a bad dream occured I would shut my eyes tight in the dream and open them to my room back to reality, I could always escape. Sometimes if I would go back to sleep right away I would end up in the same dream but that rarely happened I was confident in my method of escaping nightmares. Until one night when that confidence and trust in myself was broken and set a phobia I still have about sleeping in large open rooms.
It was a night like all the others dark full of the sounds of crickets and creaking, I tossed and turned until I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep. I had a good dream, or so I thought. I got to fly a zeppelin through open clear blue skies. Turning and swaying seeing the land from a bird’s eye view. I was having a blast until I saw a silhouette out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw a little girl in a white dress, her skin was white as porcelain and her hair was black as pitch. She sat by the window of the zeppelin with her eyes closed so I paid her no mind and I got back to flying.
After a while of cruising something irked me into looking over my shoulder. I complied with this feeling and looked. The out of place girl had now stood up and had started walking over to me her eyes closed. Once she was an arms length away from me she opened her eyes and revealed black shiny pupiless eyes. I recoiled and exclaimed
“Get away from me!”
She scowled “I hate you.”
“Get out of my dream!” I pleaded
“I hate you.” she responded then she continued
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” She kept repeating that one statement like a mantra. I decided I would clamp shut my eyes and wake up.
I did. I was back in my room it was still night and my radio was playing softly. I breathed a sigh of relief and began the process of calming my nerves so that I could attempt to go back to sleep. I rolled over beginning the process of tossing and turning but I stopped. I saw the hem of a dress just on the edge of the dark side of my room.
“I hate you.” she whispered from the darkness I was frozen in terror she took a step out from the dark and into the moonlight her black glossy eyes shimmering and she continued her chant “I hate you.” with each step she repeated herself “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” I couldn’t move I just shivered until she was just three feet away. I mustered all my strength and rolled backward and onto the hard ground of my bedroom I landed facing the underneath of my bed. I expected to see her dress instead she was there under my bed less than an inch from my face her shining black eyes piercing mine as she said “I hate you.”
I woke up screaming and crying on the floor of my bedroom.