"About that dream," Edith said. "It was horrible. There was this little green and yellow thing that looked like a cross between a lizard and a human being. It was sitting on my shoulders and I was naked—carrying it around, doing what it wanted me to do! I wanted to throw it off and stamp on it but I couldn't. I just ran and ran and all the time that little monster sat with its legs around my neck, hooting like an owl. Now, wasn't that something?"
Donald was very quiet. "You know," he said slowly, "essentially that was the same dream I had."
"But that can't be! People don't have the same nightmares."
"We did."
"Then maybe—maybe it wasn't a nightmare!"
"Nonsense. We're here. We're all right. But I think perhaps we'd better get out of here—oh, Keerist! I'm one solid bruise." He twisted around until he found the fastenings and opened the bag. With a groan he stood up.
Edith looked at him, her eyes wide with sudden terror. "Don," she said in a brittle voice, "didn't you wear pajamas when you went to bed last night?"
"Yes."
"Well, you're not wearing them now." An expression of horror crossed her face. "And neither am I," she added in a small voice.