Train operator, father was killed by the train she was on, links to the platform, the story goes on
It was an endless train journey - a dream I had no part of. It played out like a fanciful story from the perspective of the narrator, but the narrator was not me oddly enough.
Everyone was dressed in smart attire as if they had come out from a 1930's American theatre, smart tailored grey suits and low cut dresses. I saw one particular fellow clearly through the haze, in a plain grey suit, brown combed hair and a similar hat (which he took off) and the shiniest shoes I've ever seen, before apparently switching to his perspective and getting onto a massive train.
The train operator was a rather humorous and bold African woman who could shout down the entire length of the train, and considering how the train was so large I never actually saw the end of it - that was a mighty feat indeed.
The train went by places I had never seen before, stopping at buildings that don't exist anywhere in the world and on each stop the train would be tethered onto the stop with red velvet dividers by the passengers on the end (and of course Mr. Greysuit sat at the end), as if the train was a colossal ship drifting through the world.
Each passing stop marked something different, a new concept, a new setting. Sometimes the dream would skip the journey past foggy forests and beautiful grey canyons, city-scapes and even the indoors of vast complexes and jump straight to the stations.
Some appeared to be the runways to elaborate festivals and others empty metros, subways and train stations - but each one didn't seem abandoned or neglected, but desolate as you would consider a peaceful mountain retreat to be completely free from the stresses, everything seemed surreal and dream-like.
There were two others in Mr. Greysuit's company, a couple dressed in the same attire he was, but along with each new stop new people would get on and acquaintances and unknown and seemingly out of place characters would depart, seemingly blending in to their destinations. From different times, eras and communities, Mr. Greysuit tried getting off on one of the stations but the train operator shouted this is not your (indicating everyone in our carriage's) stop, and we returned to our carriage.
This is also when we got a clear view of her; tall, light brown skin, brown eyes with black hair held in a pony-tail behind her head, seated beneath a blue box hat that looked like it belonged on a Thunderbird's puppet and a blue director's uniform trimmed with gold, and of course, a rather booming voice. Everyone in our carriage joked and laughed while the director, well, directed.
Much as the settings changed, so did the train change. At times it was a modern engineering wonder full of commuters, sometimes each carriage was more akin to a car, others it was an open old train created from ornate wood and iron - at one point it was as if park benches and pianos had come together to create a locomotive Titan.
Even how it moved changed - sometimes it would suspend from cables, run through rails or drift about in some cosmic mystery; literally driving through ideas that had been given image.
Our carriage was reaching its destination. It was on the second last stop, Mr. Greysuit leaned out of what was now a wooden carriage with no doors and pulled in his carriage's crimson moorings, and that's when things became very different - it was suddenly from the perspective of three people, all connected.
The train operator's dad was waiting for her to come home - when something went wrong and rather violently, he was killed by the train. The body was never found and her brother looked after her till she was independent, and so set off to become the train director, still searching for her dad, in the same train that no one knows led to his disappearance in the first place.
And that's where the dream left off, when my first thought came through - this is a dream, I need to remember it. And I don't recall ever having a dream this unique before.
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Topic: The Dream Thread (Read 607740 times)