Our big, old house with its dark varnished, turned balustrades.
As I climbed the winding flights of stairs towards the attic room I was startled to see all the toys were moving around. No-one else was there, but the toys were just wandering back and fore, randomly.
"What's going on here?" I asked the toys. Well there was no-one else to ask, was there?
"Nothing's going on. You're just schizophrenic", came the toys' reply.
Much later when I woke at 10 to 8, too late for a run, I remembered my dream.