A distant station
Mar. 30th, 2025 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boccaderlupoI dreamed I was driving through a New England town in an old Ford Mustang. My passengers were two east Asian folks, a man and a woman, old and wizened, wearing brown clothes that almost looked like old sacks. We were trying to get to a particular train station in a particular town; the train there would take you straight through to Boston. Unfortunately, there was no obviously route to the train station, and when I finally thought I found one, I ended up in a dusty field overflowing with people, like a country fair. It was all I could do to turn the car around and drive out of there. To my frustration, the map said the station was less than a mile away right beyond the field, but there seemed no road, and I thought I could hear the distant whistle of a train.
I pulled in to a gas station and, leaving my passengers in the car, went into the attached country store. There was a guy on line in front of me who turned out to be the actor and director Mel Gibson. I asked him about the station, and he started explaining a convoluted route to get there. I told him that I suspected the train station was just beyond the field, but he shook he head. "No, it doesn't work that way," he said, loading up his arms with groceries. "Let me show you."
We left and stood outside the store, and he pointed and gesticulated, explaining the way I had to go. The train whistle sounded again, closer.
*
I dreamed I was waiting on a corner in the rain. Some campus in Essex County, a bunch of college kids with me. Maybe we were waiting for a bus. The rain was clear, a light spring shower, but I didn't feel like getting soaked. I walked back to my car and got in it, hoping to wait out the rain. Three Albanian guys strode up to the car. One knocked on my window. When I rolled it down, he reached inside at my throat. I had a knife, and slashed his hand and forearm. He recoiled in pain, and the guys started hollering at me. A cop strolled up to see what the ruckus was, and the Albanian guys accused me. The cop stared at them, then at me, then back at them.
I pulled in to a gas station and, leaving my passengers in the car, went into the attached country store. There was a guy on line in front of me who turned out to be the actor and director Mel Gibson. I asked him about the station, and he started explaining a convoluted route to get there. I told him that I suspected the train station was just beyond the field, but he shook he head. "No, it doesn't work that way," he said, loading up his arms with groceries. "Let me show you."
We left and stood outside the store, and he pointed and gesticulated, explaining the way I had to go. The train whistle sounded again, closer.
*
I dreamed I was waiting on a corner in the rain. Some campus in Essex County, a bunch of college kids with me. Maybe we were waiting for a bus. The rain was clear, a light spring shower, but I didn't feel like getting soaked. I walked back to my car and got in it, hoping to wait out the rain. Three Albanian guys strode up to the car. One knocked on my window. When I rolled it down, he reached inside at my throat. I had a knife, and slashed his hand and forearm. He recoiled in pain, and the guys started hollering at me. A cop strolled up to see what the ruckus was, and the Albanian guys accused me. The cop stared at them, then at me, then back at them.
