I'd been dreaming of being at a conference, meeting several lovely young women with whom I found instant rapport and immediately added to my circle of friends. During the course of the conference, I'd occasionally find myself in a room with some of my real friends, handing out gifts, chatting or carrying out mundane activities such as washing dishes together.
Heading back to the room I shared with my fellow delegates, however, brought feelings of sheer terror and helplessness.
My roommates were being picked off, one by one, and I knew I was in the firing line too. The culprit? A killer Walking Susan doll.
I'd see her everywhere; being carried around by a man for his daughter, pulled along by one arm by a little girl and, strangest of all, being tugged along on wheeled feet by a woman shorter than the doll itself, which presumably was being used as luggage.
Finally, there were three of us left. I was harrying one to finish packing and come with us, while the other rang for the lift. I entered the room to help my last roommate carry the last of her belongings. When we got to the lift, it took the form of stairs. Maisie, the blonde roommate, wasn't there.
As I pressed the button, the stairs sank. I ran down, calling her name, knowing we'd passed her floor. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, all I could find was a spreading bloodstain. I ran back up to the last roommate, only to find the same thing. And in the distance, a fading, childish giggle.
Something creaked behind me - and then my alarm buzzed. I woke up with a gasp. Thank god for alarm clocks. I think mine saved my life.