I woke Bill up the other night by laughing in my sleep, he told me the next day.

“Was I laughing or giggling?”

“Chortling.”

“Well, I wish you had woken me up so we could both find out what was so funny.”

This reminded me of the time, when we were newlyweds in Atlanta and my sister had come to live with us for the summer, when I woke him up by crying in my sleep. I was having a dream – a nightmare, actually – that our galley kitchen was piled to the ceiling with dirty dishes glued together by dried-on eggs. It was a scene out of Dr. Seuss’ “The Cat in the Hat.”

Weird stuff has been happening to me ever since we moved into our new home.

In January, when Bill was out of town on business, I stayed up late reading a really good book, finally dozing off about 1 a.m. At 4:50 a.m. someone was urgently pounding on the door. I sat bolt upright, then started sprinting down the hall. I was sure our house was on fire and the neighbors I hadn’t even met yet were rescuing me. (I think I had watched a house fire story on the 11 o’clock news.)

But about halfway down the hall, I didn’t smell smoke and decided it was probably a burglar checking to see if anyone was there. (I was taught by friends, while living in the South, it’s better to acknowledge to the burglar that you are at home than to have him come in and scare you when you’re sleeping. One burglar took off his shoes in our friends’ living room so he could tiptoe around better. After he dropped a glass and Cindy screamed, he took off. It was easy for police to catch him. They looked for a barefoot guy running down the street.)

Wrong on both counts. As I careened around the corner in my nightie and wild hair, it was easy for the person who was knocking to see me because our front door right now is one of those sliding glass ones.

It was a police officer beaming a flashlight on me and looking very serious.

“Ma’am, could you please tell me your name!” My arms flew up – please don’t shoot! – as I replied, “Debbie Blank.”

He looked disappointed, explaining he was hunting for a different woman who used to live in my house. “I had information she gets up for work about this time.”

This is how tired I was. After he apologized and left, I got fires, burglaries and stern-looking police officers out of my head and immediately fell back to sleep.

A few weeks later, I arrived home with groceries just as a storm was kicking up. I parked in the driveway and was reaching in the trunk for the bags when I heard a sound I recognized.

You know in movies right before a tree falls, there is a dramatic cracking sound that warns of impending doom? That was the sound I heard.