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			by Dave Golembeski nlike most tales of horror and dread, this story did not take place during a dark and dreary night. This story occurred during a hot, humid summer night -- although the air was quite cool due to the air conditioner being set on high.      Young Dave, a lad of seven, was asleep in his bed, dreaming of the things young lads of seven tend to dream about: baseball, frogs, cookies. Those types of things.      Suddenly, Dave was awoken by a very loud sound next to his head. Even though the lights were out, he knew what had made that sound. Someone, or perhaps something, had slapped their hand or paw or whatever you would call a monster's appendage, down with great force on the nightstand next to his bed!      Although he was seven and brave enough to enter Old Man McClusky's haunted house all alone, Dave didn't lay there in bed and reason out whether it was a monster's paw or some stranger's hand or even a book falling off the shelf. Bolting upright, he screamed, "MOM!"      Dave's mom hurried to his room, turned on the light, and sat on the edge of his bed. After Dave told her what had happened, she tried to console him the best she could. She explained it