I am wearing a fluffy gold coat, it’s much too big for me, but I wear it anyway, and I am crouching at the top of a tall bale of hay looking down at what appear to be a pile of broken toys. From the top of the hay bale (somehow) I put the pieces back together again, and the pieces fit together like a puzzle, which I had not noticed before. As soon as one toy is put together it seems to come alive, and for some reason they seem to look up to me with what I detect is fear. Some of them scitter away, and some remain. I don’t seem to think the living toys are at all strange, but the ones that stay I can somehow take something out of them, like the ghost of a hand passing through something solid and when I draw it out, it looks like meat, and I eat it.
I remember something here that one of the toys is full of sting, and I feel like for a split second I understand everything, but just as soon as it came it leaves. I don’t remember anything else.