Marigold Rye

 I was at Dbergers vineyard.  D. was talking to someone about his new whiskey which was called Marigold Rye because it had Marigold flower in it.  Doug was asking me if the Marigold had psychedelic properties.  I said it did.  I suppose I should look that up now that I am awake to see if that is correct.  Yep, "tagetes lucida"--used by the Aztecs for all sorts of interesting things.  Hmmm.

I actually lived almost across the street from the vineyard in the dream.  My car was gone.  Or at least all but the shell of it.  I thought that I must have blacked out the day before and left it somewhere.  Or wrecked it.  I wasn't so much concerned that it was gone even though I remembered that it was my new car, but I was more concerned that it was going to be a hassle to track it down and find out what happened to it or where it was.  As I walked into my apartment, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw that I had light brown hair and one of those short man pony tails.   I then looked outside and saw a futurist sheriff's car from Scott County, Illinois.  I remember thinking shit, they are coming for me because of something I did with my car.  But they left and it must not have involved me.

Then there was something even more strange.  Something about large animals being swallowed up by much smaller animals.  Almost accidentally.  Strange.

Waking up Ray Douhit(h).

 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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