Of course, you would never expect such a morbid discovery when you are making the bed of your youngest daughter early that morning. Being in a mad rush to get everything done before it is too late does not make matters any better. It was raining pretty hard outside and the wind was blowing if that matters. So what happened exactly? Well, I was straightening out the green covers nice and taut, and I had to slide the bed out from the wall in order to tuck in the covers on that side. As I moved the bed out a ways, this strangely oversized shoebox which had been wedged in there fell hard to the ground making a dismal and muffled thump. The lid popped off and some of the contents spilled out. There was this dangling arm with streaks of blood on it and a smashed-in head of a half-decomposed body, all this greenish mold and oozing substance which had solidified over time. Not the usual adult body that one might expect in these kind of dreamworlds, but rather the thinnish body of a small child, say around five years of age. I recognized immediately who it was, and I did not have to think about what had happened. I woke up with a start. I am still recovering from that episode, that's for sure.