Bookshelf horrors.

I've decided to have this site in honor of my vivid and disturbing dreams. I even have some back-logged for quick posting. So here I go...

It starts with me driving by a small ranch house on a hilly and slightly wooded little road. I pull up and park in front of the house on the street; it's on my left but there's no oncoming traffic. I have the impression that I am a detective, though whether I am private or a police officer I am not sure. Most of the house is taken up with a large garage with two doors, each wide enough for two cars each. They are a light, unsaturated yellow. Cream almost.
On the front porch sits a thirty-something red-headed and bearded man and a small bare-foot boy. They don't see me for some reason, and I know that they are evil. A car pulls into the driveway and the garage opens, revealing living-room furniture set up on the cement floor. A man in a grey suit gets out of the car and talks to the bearded man on the porch; I cannot hear the exchange. The small boy leads him into the garage by the hand and the door closes. I hear some angry yelling and what I take to be the boys voice shouts threateningly "I'll get the bookcase! I will!" The suit comes back out and the bearded man looks apologetic, but to no avail. Suited fellow's car drives off and the beard notices me and comes over. The boy runs into the house shouting about a bookshelf.
The red-headed man is also barefoot, which I did not notice before. He asks me what I think I'm doing, and makes threats of physical violence. I am still in my car with the window rolled up, but when I lay my hand flat against the glass it explodes in small shards. The man looks surprised, but not as much as I thought he would. He swings at me, and I catch his fist. I squeeze it and start to do whatever I did to the window; the bones creak and flex in my hand. His face shows pain and rage, and I push him off and jump out of the car. He leaps and me again and I grab his head. I hear a high-pitched whine, and then his skull crumbles to dust in his skin and he falls to the ground twitching, head shapeless and deflated. The garage opens and the little boy leaps out screaming, one of his overall straps has come undone. He leaps on me and bites, but I fling him into the bushes and stalk forward. He runs into the house and before I forget him, once again he yells about a bookshelf.
In the living room/garage, I search for a door. Something I move causes the back wall to slide up into the ceiling revealing a young teenage girl tied carelessly to a bed. She is calm and kind looking, seemingly unperturbed by the scraps of cloth that bind her arms and legs to the bed. She is sitting up, back against some dirty pillows, and is flipping through what looks like a coloring book. I brush aside some of her short blonde hair and ask her if she has been kidnapped.
She smiles bemusedly and says, "In a way." Next to the bed is a back-less bookcase, and through it I see the rest of the room and the doorway to a kitchen. The book case has some children’s toys and some books, but is mostly empty. I turn to the girl and ask her what all the yelling about the bookshelf was.
She looks horrified and starts screaming, thrashing and clawing, her back arched and her toes curled in pain. My efforts to soothe her are to no avail, and I hear a woman and the boy yelling "Bookshelf! Bookshelf! That will teach her!"
In walks the woman, with the boy at her heels. In her arms are dusty bowling trophies, fake plants, and assorted ugly bric-a-brac. She stalks in, ignoring me, saying that she'll line the bookshelf with her mother's sins. The young girl wails.
I knock the knick-knacks out of the woman's arms and slap her. She falls on one of them and is impaled, killed. The little boy vanishes.
I hear a siren and cop car pulls up. The girl is starting to calm, and I tell her everything will be alright.
I run outside and the cop yells at me, sees the dead bearded man, and then shoots at me. My car is to far away, so I shatter the driver's side window of the police cruiser and dive in, driving away. He chases a bit before returning to the house. I know the girl will be fine.
The road is twisted and I drive fast. Night is falling. I know I have to get rid of the cop car or I will be caught. I drive it into a lake and swim towards the surface. Before I make it, I wake.

My neck still hurts.

Here she be, a link to the world. A way of proving(?) that I exist. Weeee. I'm sure I'll think of something tomorrow.