They were just an ordinary pair of shoes - I think the sole on the left one broke after 8 months of hard use - but that box was something else.

I threw some of my sci fi mags in the box and dumped it in the back of my closet, most likely damned to an eternity of uselessness. But you just don't throw out good storage.

The next day I got up and went to my closet to get some pants. I opened the door, and my jaw nearly fell off it dropped so hard.

It was snowing in there.

I quickly shut the door and reopened it, just to make sure it wasn't my imagination. Still snowing. I stepped inside, and the snow fell into my hair and on my chest. It was amazingly weird. I stood there for a second, looking at the falling flakes, when I had an epiphany: I had dreamed about snow last night.

It was a long ride on my bike through the snow of Montana (though I had never been farther north than Omaha) and it had been a nice dream, seeing a lot of things I had never seen before - particularly, snow. And now it was snowing in my closet. I looked down and saw that the box from yesterday had tipped over, and now was filled with snow. It just didn't make any sense, but who was I to complain? It wouldn't be the first unexplainable mystery in life.

Over the next several days, I would wake up, go to my closet, open the door, and find another wondrous remnant of my dreams sitting inside that little shoebox. A bowl of cherries; a lively frog; a model car (somewhat of a disappointment, considering my dream had involved the real thing); and some rather lascivious pictures of Keri Russell.

You ever hear the phrase too much of a good thing? Yeah, me neither.

I woke up on Tuesday with a start. It was a terrible dream: I was alone in a house, and there was a killer on the loose. He had chased me into this bathroom, where I had locked myself in, and he was beating on the door, laughing evilly. It felt like I had been in the bathroom for hours, but it had probably only been minutes. I took a deep breath and reminded myself ... it's only a dream. I turned to get out of bed.

The closet door was open. I always shut the closet door, and now it was open. There was only one explanation. I slipped out of bed as quietly as possible. Then I heard that laugh, that awful laugh. It was coming from somewhere far away in the house. I grabbed my cell phone and ran into the bathroom, locking it on my way in.

The laugh, low and breathy, a heh followed by a sharp sigh, kept coming closer. I pounded out the numbers on the phone - 9 .. 1 .. 1 - and when it finally connected, I began shouting incoherently, "He's going to kill me! Help!" The operator began asking the regular questions: where are you located, who's trying to kill you, what's the situation, but I didn't have time. The laughing was right outside the door now, and then the steady pounding began. Every beat jarred me into a stifled sob. I finally gave out my address, and told her the guy was outside the bathroom door and would kill me. She tried to calm me down, staying on the line while she dispatched a patrolman to my door.

The pounding suddenly stopped. Even the operator was nervous. "Did he stop? Is he gone?"

"Lady, I'm not going to stick my head out to find out."

Suddenly, the pounding resumed, only with a much thicker and sharper force. The door was shaking violently with every hit. The operator told me it was only a matter of minutes.

Finally, the tip of the axe-head became visible through a hole in the door. "He's got an axe!" I cried out. "He's got an axe!" The operator was trying her best to remain calm, but my hysteria was contagious, and she began to yell, "Find anything you can! Get him in the eyes!"

The chopping continued, and finally the door gave way, and I could see his eyes. It was the first time I had seen him. He had dark hair, long, to his shoulders; his eyes stared menacingly, little dark spots. He was still laughing, but he wasn't smiling. He began pumping the axe more furiously, and the echoes filled the bathroom tile. When would the cops get there?

I heard the sounds of the sirens approaching. I looked up, and watched with horror as he stuck his hand inside the hole he had made, and unlocked the door. With a final swing of the axe, he knocked the door halfway off its hinges. The sirens were just outside, but it was too late for me now. He came towards me with those staring black eyes, laughing as he raised the axe...

I awoke with a start. God almighty! What a terrible dream. I was going to have to call Courtney and tell her about this. I reached over to grab my phone.

The closet door was open. The sinister laughing downstairs froze me in my place. I grabbed my phone, and looked down. Calls Sent: 911.

Something told me this was going to be a long day ...