Sleep on the left side, keep the sword hand free

Recently, the hand of God reached into my bedroom and saved my skull from being crushed like a bug.

Either that or a coincidence happened. Here's the scoop:

Most nights, I sleep on the left side of my bed. (Or maybe it is the right. Is the left side of the bed the left side as you face the bed, or the left side as you lie in it? I don't know the answer to this question.)

Anyway, most nights, I sleep on the east side of my bed. Actually, just about every night since I can remember. Even though I own a queen-sized bed and have a whole bed on which to move around, I almost never move from my east side locale. Above my bed is a great built-in bookcase, recessed into the wall. As you might guess, I own a lot of books.

A few nights ago, at about 3:30 in the morning, I was woken up by a loud crash and something falling on my shoulder. I was dazed from having just woken up, but I turned on the light to discover that my bookshelves had collapsed. About 60 books had fallen, and most importantly, the shelves themselves had fallen. The shelves are made from heavy 2 x 12 boards, and one of the shelves had fallen corner first. And my subtle foreshadowing techniques should have tipped you off to the fact that the corner of this heavy shelf, the edge of the other shelf, and probably a hundred pounds of books had all fallen where my head would normally, on almost every other night of my life, have been resting on its pillow. But when I was woken up by falling bookshelves, I was on the west-central part of my bed.

"What's turned to smoke was in our hearts."

What does it all mean? No idea.