I am a big part of life, yet i cannot be seen. I tend to worry people but i can bring an air of nostalgia

I run, yet never walk. I have a bed but never sleep I have a mouth but bever speak

I'm the brink of darkness on the horizon, creeping slow to welcome night. A trio of films brought shame to strigoi lore, and wrecked the werewolf’s bite. I'm what arrives as the sun dips low, while stars blink on for nocturnal delight.

I can be pulled out from under you, Or greet you at the door, Come in wet and careless, And you'll hear about it for sure. What am I?

If you call my name, I will go away. What Am I?