The Intrusive Record Player  I seem to be at home, which is different than in real life. My friends Gino Teavor and Glen Ryan are there. It's late: I have stayed up late tonight. I walk to my room, which is a big room where we all sleep. I go by a computer lab and see my classmate Laura Caster working at a computer with headphones on. I had seen her earlier. I get to the room and enter. The door to the room is a big colorful wooden door/painting, splattered with much color. The door is broken: the top pin hitch is broken and the top of the door hangs loose. I try to put it back in its place and end up putting it to the side, completely off its hinges, inside the room. There is a record player on the floor playing loudly. I shut off the power to the record player and it slowly slows, still producing the loud noise. I find the noise disturbing: a loud blare in the quiet, dark room. I don't take the needle off the record. Eventually the music stops. I walk into the room. It is dark and cool with good airflow: a very relaxing atmosphere, like a cool summers night. There is a woman sleeping in a bed on my right. I don't want to disturb or awaken her. My bed is mattress or two on the floor. I see that I have two blankets instead of one, in a messy bundle on my bed. I'm glad about his because I think it will be a bit chilly tonight.