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My twin sister, Ashley, and I shared a bedroom growing up, but most nights the room's second bed went empty. Everybody knows that monsters emerge from the closet when the lights go out, so we slept together.

Ashley was a good jumper and could get to me in a single bound. Touching the floor as little as possible was crucial, because monsters also hide under the bed.

You can imagine my horror, then, to discover monster dolls crowding toy-store shelves. I'm not talking about space monsters to be slain by action figures. I'm talking furry, fang-toothed stuffed animals to hug and sleep with.

This obscene turn of events is mostly the fault of Walt Disney Pictures, which has hooked up again with Pixar Animation Studios (Toy Story, A Bug's Life) to bring us Monsters, Inc. They colluded with Hasbro Inc. to lead the merchandising orgy.

Opening today, the computer- animated feature chronicles the misadventures of co-workers at Monsters, Inc., a scream-processing factory in Monstropolis, where the main power source is the collected screams of human children.

It's the job of a furry, 800-pound monster named Sulley (John Goodman) to keep the screams coming, but he runs into trouble when a girl named Boo follows him back to Monstropolis. That's strictly forbidden, because monsters believe direct contact with children is toxic -- to the monsters.

Disney's not the only one to blame for lovable monster toys. Toymax International Inc. is reintroducing the 1980s doll My Pet Monster, M.I.T. (monster in training). The 12-inch plush toy with horns and a fang-filled smile lights up with a squeeze of his hand "to reassure children after bad dreams."

And from Spin Master Toys comes Don't Free Freddy. Billed as "two monsters in one," purple, fang-toothed Freddy makes sweet comments when shackled, but growls and gets unruly when the cuffs are off.

Fisher-Price will soon launch the latest version of its blockbuster Tickle Me Elmo. Tickle Me Elmo Surprise has not one, but five, tickle spots that make him giggle and shake. Children have to find the right spot, which is constantly changing.

These monsters are benign, as monsters go. Not the ravenous beasts who tortured Sigourney Weaver in the Alien trilogy. Think Cookie Monster, or ALF.

Just days after Halloween, the arrival of Disney's fuzzy fiends and the other sanitized pseudo-monsters borders on offensive.

Whither the scary monster? Is nothing sacred?

Monsters have a proud history dating to the earliest civilizations of humankind, according to the University of Dallas' Mark Greene, who holds a doctorate in mythological studies.

One of the first Greek goddesses, Gaia (Earth) was forced into sexual union by her son, Uranos (Sky). Their offspring included the one-eyed cyclopses, the hundred-handed hekatonchires, and the twelve titans, giants of human form.

Disgusted with his children, Uranos locked them away in the Underworld, and so began our fascination with what is horrible and locked up in the cellar, Green contends.

Even the word panic -- the customary reaction to encountering a monster -- comes from Pan, the Greek half-man, half-goat shepherd-god. When flocks became suddenly terrified, Pan got the blame.

Two literary icons, Frankenstein and Dracula, loom large years after their creation because of the universal desire for immortality -- the wish to be god-like, if you will.

"They represent anxiety about the return of the dead, or the dead coming back to life, and there's something intellectually intriguing as well as horrifying about cheating death," said Arnold Markley, assistant professor of English at Pennsylvania State University.

The issue is timeless, as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein bears out.

In light of cloning, genetic engineering and stem-cell research, her cautionary tale of science outpacing our ability to cope with its moral implications is as relevant today as it was when the book was published in 1818, Markley said.

Throughout history and across cultures, monsters personify what is alien and strange, said Timothy Beal, associate professor of religion at Case Western University in Cleveland and author of Religion and its Monsters (Routledge, $19.95).

"At the same time, monsters are projections of that 'otherness' that's within all of us," he said.

To put it in Freudian terms, monsters are our repressed selves released, which is why we find them both attractive and repugnant, Beal said.

It's also why we insist on watering them down to cute, easily tamed, characters who are just as afraid of us as we are of them.

"I think it reflects our anxiety as adults and as parents about the real and palpable horrors that children experience," Beal said. "Children don't create this stuff. Adults do.

"We're afraid of our children's monsters."

Thus, a gigantic, carnivorous dinosaur is transformed into Barney, who sings about how much he loves us. And those monsters in the closet are safe enough to use in a G-rated Disney film.

I get it; I really do. Whether hideous or so adorable as to make the teeth ache, all monsters serve a purpose.

But for my part, I'll take the scary ones.

I know it's irrational, but at 34 years old, I still scramble to get under the covers quickly after turning off the light. And I can't sleep comfortably unless the blanket's scrunched up against my neck -- a hopeful barrier against vampires.

All those years shivering in the dark with my sister, she let me have the side of the bed that was against the wall. Anybody who came at me had to get by her.

It's not everyone who'll take a monster-bite for you.

I'd hate to think it was all for nothing.