Peter the squirrel lost his special box, or it was stolen.

Peter never moved the box, it always sat in the middle of his small, round table. How could he have lost it?

His box held his notes and stories -- endless scraps of paper scribbled on front and back, erased and edited, re-erased and re-edited. The box held nothing that would be considered valuable to anyone else. Who would steal a box, made from a nibbled and discarded acorn, stuffed with scribbles of paper?

Peter laid down on his bed, positioned himself in a squirrelish curl and cried himself to sleep. At first Peter had terrible nightmares, monsters both real and imagined appeared to him. Peter soothed each monster in turn. Gradually, Peter began to fall into more colorful worlds -- pleasant dreams filled with family and loved ones, happy memories and fairy tales.

Rested, Peter eventually woke up. He was confused, but pleasantly surprised to find that his cherished acorn box was sitting in the center of his small round table, where he always kept it. Peter could not explain where the box went or why it was now returned. He decided not to think about it at this time, just have some breakfast and scribble a note or two.