In my nightmare, I saw the strange little girl again. She was in a small room, with walls made of bones, and she was wearing a white dress. I have no idea what her name is, but she was my age, and she climbed on all fours to the top of a bookshelf. She was holding a doll with black hair and a gray face. It was a doll from my childhood. This doll belonged to my sister. I hid it under my bed. I didn't know why I did that, but I'm sure I had a good reason.