The Chateau Marmont is notorious for being allegedly haunted, so that comes as an easy icebreaker when we first sit down to order breakfast. Gray, I quickly find out, is no stranger to encountering spirits, including co-habitating with one in his childhood home. Every night, like clockwork, he’d go to sleep on the top bunk, his large family dog asleep beneath him, and wake up at 3 a.m. — “which I much, much, much later learned is the witching hour,” he says. “One morning, I wake up at 3 in the morning like I always do, and my dog isn’t there. Then I hear someone down the hallway, but it’s coming from my brother’s room, so I was like, ‘It’s probably my brother getting up to go pee or whatever.’ But as I’m listening, I’m noticing that the footsteps are much heavier and much slower than he would ever walk. Then the footsteps slowly trudge to my door. It sounds like there’s a huge person walking in the hallway, but there’s no one there. Then I hear the thing walk into my room, and it starts to whistle a song. And at this point, I’m saying all my prayers.
“Then I start to hear each one of the individual steps of my little ladder creek. It’s coming up. It’s still whistling. So in a last ditch effort to survive, I throw my blankets in the general direction, fall off my bunk, slam my *ss on the floor, and go literally run for my life. But my sheets hit the lamp in my room and turn it on, and when I look, there’s nothing… The next morning, I woke up my stepmom and I was like, ‘Something happened last night.’ She half-asleep, was like ‘Oh, he just wanted to play,’ and then went back to sleep… Anyways, the house is haunted as f*ck.”