Moments in Winter

This morning I dreamed that a man came to my door, asking if he could take a look at some books that he had seen through my window. I told him that the books weren't really in my house, they only appeared to be there. They were visible when you looked in through the window, but not from inside the house. They were, I explained, due to a ghost -- various things around the house would appear to be there that really weren't. These were signs that the house was haunted. About as I said this, it occurred to me that the man at my door was the ghost. I also realized, in the way that you do in dreams, that he needed to find a way to get to those ghost books to get a crucial piece of information, and that I was going to have to help him. And then I woke up.

The afterimage of the dream feels like the kernel of a story to me. I wonder if I'll write it?