I am not a good photographer. This shot shows part of the east wall of my kitchen-of-the-seven-doors, above the cluttered kitchen table.
To the left on the shelf, you can see a bit of an old mantle clock...well, its pendulum anyway...behind the milk glass hen. One of those odd items that have stuck around the family for five or six generations.
This is the clock that appears in D&D. The clock that the sudden boingboingboing when it struck scares the livingshit out of Lillie St. Claire when she's searching the house for other paranormal intruders after her dead husband shows up in her bathroom.
I can testify that it sounds sepulchral and definitively doom-laden in the quiet and listening dark.
We all do this, don't we? Integrate not only bits of people we know and thoughts we've had but also incidental personal property into our narratives?