Imelda wasn’t quite sure, but before she went to bed she had arranged her soft toys neatly on the shelf. There was a llama, two bears, a penguin, a little dog, and so on – all sitting next to a model of the Eiffel Tower. They were in a very specific order. She always placed them in that order when removing them from the bed. Just this once she may have put them in the wrong order before going to sleep, but she didn’t think so. It was a mystery.
“I don’t believe all this Tchaikovsky Nutcracker nonsense,” thought Imelda, “with toys coming to life in the middle of the night. Such a concept is the most puerile thing I could think of. Imagine an adult dabbling in such childish fantasy! Nutcracker! Nuts is right! There can be only two explanations for the toys to have moved: either I moved them in my sleep or someone came into the room while I slept.”
Imelda boarded with Mr. and Mrs. Beveridge. They were a pleasant couple. Of course Imelda had her own room, but she shared the main rooms of the house with the Beveridge’s; the dining room and kitchen, the sitting room, the bathroom. At breakfast, Imelda asked if anyone had gone to her room during the night, inadvertently or not. They swore they had never gone near.
“I must have sleep walked,” said Imelda. “I suppose you didn’t see me sleep walk?”
They hadn’t. The following two mornings saw the stuffed toys realigned again. Now Imelda was convinced they had been moved. She went to the shops and bought a little hidden camera that she quietly set up pointing at the toys. The next morning the toys were once again out of order. Imelda watched the recorded video.
My goodness me! Goodness me! She went straight to her computer and downloaded a recording of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite. Heavenly! And so grounded in reality!