Your concern for the mental health of the man on the lawn does you credit, keezoy, but please let me put your mind at rest on that score. The man on the lawn is not mentally ill; in fact, the man on the lawn is Dave, my assistant, who helps me with my experiments. 
As I have no lawn Id know it was just a dream and go back to sleep.
OK. Mental health was my profession for thirty plus years so…You can take the boy out of the job but you can’t take the job out of the boy. Glad Dave is alright. So now I will go back to bed. 
Dave’s not talking to me at the moment. Something to do with what I said about his legs. 
Depending upon the time of year i.e. the temperature, I would probably take a couple of chairs outside and a couple of mugs of tea, sit beside him and ask him what he’s doing on my lawn in the middle of the night, and proceed to tell him all about my life as a runner…
Oh, well why didn’t you say? In that case I would probably join him on the lawn (naked of course)
Dave is a very tactile person; very hands on. Do you mind being handled?
does he have Hob Nobs?:-p
He’s not fussy, he’ll have any sort. 
How cool is this! Good to get us thinking, Harbal.
If you read my first response, don’t tell what I concluded.
I might possibly have it…
Q1. Up to what point of the scale from S1 to S1d would you just return to bed, hoping that everything would be back to normal in the morning?
I would check on this man, but shrug my shoulders. Illuminated in the light, he looks ghastly pale, but a little nudity never hurt anyone, I suppose. Back to bed for me.
Up checking again, it would give me a good laugh to see him sandals. Somehow that doesn’t seem to fit his personality, being a nudist or some such. I am a bit relieved about the umbrella. Under the comforter I go…
Once again I check from my warm and toasty room, despite this poor man being so obviously cold. If he wants to be out there frozen to death, what am I supposed to do? Live and let live…
But…at SD
What is this? A campsite? A tent? A camping stove?
This is outrageous! ENOUGH! We all have our limits…
I am running outside in a flash.
:cool2:
If it was winter, I’d go out and talk to him and offer him a coat and a cup of hot chocolate. Once he had the teddy bear, I’d tell him how much I like teddy bears. If it was summer I might offer him sun screen (I would not help him apply it) and something cool to drink. I’d also take him some cookies. I bake good cookies. If the tent and camping stuff was in the yard, I’d tell him that he was not welcome to live on my property, but I could help him find a place along the river nearby. I would ask him if he needed help. Depending on what he said, I would tailor my response to what I felt I could do that would be most helpful.
Originally, I was going to say that not until the police had arrived would I have returned to bed. However, you added another fact to the scenario regarding who Dave was, thus making me re-evaluate my initial response. Knowing he was your assistant, I would go back to bed immediately and not worry about him.
Interesting. A naked guy in the yard could be a bit nuts, no matter who he works for. Grin.
You might not think that after you’ve seen him.
Just don’t look any higher. Dave is not a pretty sight above the knees.
I see you ignored my warning, and looked above the knees.
At least for me, I did look above the knees. Now, if the guy is a young stud, he might be showing off. Since he’s not I could feel sorry for him. Of course there are nudists who like to be bare no matter what. I was invited to join a group of them when I was young. No one would invite me now even though I don’t look half bad for an old lady. Grin.
I assume Dave is not modest and is very self-accepting. There is something to be said for that…
If it was winter, he wouldn’t be in your garden. Dave is very good with locks; he’s be in your kitchen, looking for Ovaltine. He doesn’t like hot chocolate.
Dave once killed a man; he strangled him while he was sleeping. Do not go back to bed. 
If he was in my kitchen without my permission I’d sic my cat on him. He wouldn’t find any Ovaltine. I’ve never liked it.
My brother literally killed four people. I had to overcome my fear to survive.
Psychotic, with homicidal tendencies, but, in layman’s terms, “nuts” is a fair description. :shock:
My brother was diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic by the psychiatrist for the defense. It was from being fed too much fundamentalist religion as we were growing up and because his physicians prescribed six heavy drugs…Stelazine, Thorazine, Librium, Lithium, Valium and one other I can’t think of right now. It happened in 1980. That event changed everything in my life, even how I respond to this thought experiment.