The Man Who Every Door He Opened Was To a Funeral

as it sounds

There once was a man who found himself with a rather pressing matter. For one morning Kenneth sleepily opened the door to his bathroom. Instead of the usual chill from the porcelain room awaiting him, he was quite staggered to find a pre-funeral ceremony taking place. What was once his bathtub, toilet and sink now stood an open casket, a load of flowers and a decorative commemoration book for the recently departed. There were mourners filing in, some in tight-lipped, masculine modes of respect, others weeping and wailing. They did not notice him and he could not see the face of the dead person. 

Believing himself to still be dreaming, Kenneth turned around and went into the kitchen. He pushed the door (which he usually left open) as an early morning tea thirst gripped him. There instead of his usual cupboards and kettle was the funeral mass, a priest warbling inaudibly in the distance from his pulpit, extolling the ascetic virtues of the dead man. No mourners turned around. Kenneth exited the kitchen sharply, closing the door all the way. Undoubtedly he was having a very bizarre lucid dream. There was no real choice but to go back to bed and sleep through it.  

Wearily he went back into his bedroom, only to find himself in line to pay respects to the dead man’s casket. He did not recognise the man nor anyone there, nor did anyone there acknowledge his presence in his pyjamas. Sweat and tension began to rise for he felt very awake now but knew he was stuck in a nightmare. He rushed to the living room, which was across the landing from the bathroom, to make a call that would jolt him out of this… situation. Only there was no telephone, television or couch in there; he was now at the graveside, where the man he didn’t recognise was boxed up and ready to go into the ground. It was raining and still no one acknowledged him. With short, sharp inhalations of breath he staggered to his front door at the end of the hall, only just mustering the strength to unlock the locks and turn the handle.

Outside his front door another funeral mass was taking place where there was once a landing and a rubbish chute and an entire world. For Kenneth, there were only funerals. His presence was never noted.