I walked up the stairs in our house.

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.

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