Thanks to my siblings’ twisted childhood psych outs, I pretty much can’t get through the night when I visit somewhere new without a startled freak-out or two.

It doesn’t take a lot to send my mind racing in the dark. And I don’t exactly stick to the most rational, logical explanations.

While doctors are cautioned, “When you hear hoof beats don’t think zebras,” the overactive imagination I’m blessed with leaps right past that to, “But what about unicorns? Or ALIEN zebras?”

This may be swell for a writer trying to dream up a story, but it’s not so hot when you can’t just flip the switch to rationality.

While I may not be hiding under my bed to fool the lurking monsters anymore, I still have my moments.

It was an early April day when I flew into San Francisco to visit my college roommate, Sarah, for her bachelorette party in Lake Tahoe.

It was a bit disappointing to discover that instead of leaving frigid Minnesota for warmer climes, our planned road trip to a mountain-side villa at Tahoe led us smack into a late season snowstorm.

Maybe it was the unwelcome surprise of this development, coupled with the fact we had to drive through Donner Pass in sketchy weather – triggering the “Just how hungry would you have to be to turn cannibal?” discussion – that set the timer ticking on my freak-out meter.

After hours of tense driving on slippery roads, we finally arrived at our private chalet, dumped our gear and set out for a hike around the neighborhood. It was my first visit to Lake Tahoe, and I jumped at the chance to check out the rich folks’ extravagant winter playhouses as we tramped through the new-fallen snow.

This late in the season, we didn’t encounter another soul, not a single tire track marring the smooth roadways or neighborhood drives, each house tellingly dark as night approached.

After shaking off the last of our road trip butt numbness with a hike around the lake, we returned to the chalet, broke out the wine and cheese, and settled in for a night of girlfriend giggles and gossip.

It was probably the wine that started us talking about serial killers.

One gal confessed that after watching handsome Mark Harmon playing the bad guy in a television movie about Ted Bundy, she found herself questioning the ulterior motives of any guy who approached her in the grocery store.

After all, if being really hot wasn’t a guarantee that a guy wasn’t a sociopath, what hope was there for weeding out the whackos?

Having to throw in “No serial killers” to the deal-breaker checklist had put a serious damper on her hopes of meeting Mr. Right in the stranger dating pool.

We laughed about it at the time, but looking back, I wouldn’t recommend this discussion as the last conversation you have before heading off to bed.

The roomy chalet offered several sleeping areas, and Ms. “Stranger Danger!” and I claimed the top floor bunks.

I don’t recall that I went to sleep with visions of sociopaths dancing in my head, but when I first heard strange sounds above me on the rooftop in the night, my thoughts didn’t immediately leap to cute, scurrying little chipmunks.

Surely those ‘thuds’ loud enough to wake me up had to have been made by weightier creatures.

Bigger than a breadbox… but how much bigger? Rabid raccoons? Bears? Or what about …human?

As soon as I thought it, the likelier it seemed. Or at least I couldn’t get the scary picture out of my head.

I tried to rationalize that we hadn’t seen anyone around all day, we were practically snowed in… which within seconds turned to – there’s no one else around, we’re practically snowed in!

A burglar could be trying to break in – and who would hear us scream?

A house full of slightly drunk, sleepy, unsuspecting females – a serial killer’s dream!

What does it sound like when a grappling hook lands on a roof?

Unable to get back to sleep, I started to hear new noises… INSIDE the house.

Creaking floorboards, stealthy footsteps, rustling blankets. “Have you checked the children lately?” flitted through my head…

But maybe it was all a dream? I had been drinking, after all… But why would I dream about hearing water running in the bathroom?

Was someone washing the blood of their first victim off their jagged blade?

I was stuck in the midst of my recurring childhood nighttime dilemma.

What if I’m not just paranoid, and there really is something scary going on? Do I dare warn anyone else? Should I hide? Or keep absolutely still, hoping that the bad guys don’t realize I’m there? Is it selfish to worry only about saving myself?

Does survival trump friendship in the dark?

It was right about this time that my bunk mate got up from her bed to go to the bathroom.

Well, this was it… either she wasn’t coming back, I’d hear the screams and have to enact a hasty escape plan, later remembering her brave sacrifice in a touching graveside eulogy – or I’d be proved a silly, over-imaginative idiot yet again.

When she came back – duh – I asked her if she had just woken up, and she admitted she’d been listening to the creepy noises too, and wondered why someone had been running a bath.

Confessing my own wild-ass theories, we both laughed, and finally drifted off to sleep just about the time the sun lightened the room and chased away the scary thoughts.

As we all gathered for breakfast the next morning, we laughed at learning every single person in the house had woken up at different times in the night.

The bride to be had taken the midnight bath break, in an attempt to calm a pre-wedding jitters freak-out.

Not related at all, I might add, to a fear of sociopathic serial killers. Or so she said.

As it turned out, it seems that every scary scenario was just a figment of my overactive imagination.

But I never did dare check the roof for signs of those grappling hooks.

I think we’ve all heard about the “she didn’t take the scary story seriously” girl who found the psycho killer’s hook left dangling from her car’s bumper. Me, I’d rather pass on being the main character in the next urban legend.

The IT’S TRUE CAUSE IT HAPPENED TO A FRIEND OF A FRIEND OF SOMEONE THAT I KNOW tale of terror at Tahoe role is still open for casting.

Clueless, helpless females wanted – I hear the ending is killer.