I was in a room, which resembled a college dorm. I had a small bed near a door. Behind the door was a man who never came out. His name was Ray Douhit, or something like that. Usually I don't remember names in dreams, so I suppose I should look this one up. Just did. Nothing that resonates.
Anyway, I'm not sure why Ray Douhit never came out of his room. Like some sort of Dickensian novel, and I'm not sure the door leading to his room actually led to anything. Maybe he didn't exist. I didn't like him there. For some reason I was inclined to speak to him. In a very raspy voice I called out to him, not Ray but "Raji". It scared the shit out of him. There was also a woman involved, but I don't remember that.
The more I think about this, I wonder if I am the one who is haunting Ray, and not the other way around. Do I ever come out of my room? Its an interesting existential question I suppose.
Like the way station in that art bar down by the Mississippi. Near the caves. Where they play 70s music all night. And drink semi-sweet wine. A self induced purgatory to be sure. Now who do you suppose I should haunt next?
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