In my dreams you're alive and you're crying.
Last night I had the strangest dream.
I remember that I wound up by myself in a small, dusty town.
In the dream, I had heard a lot about this small town,
But it was all about how amazing and fantastic and wonderful it was.
There was something that absolutely everyone loved dearly about it.
But I couldn't figure out what it was,
In the dream I just felt sad and was confused as to why where I was was so beautiful.
The town was placed on a hillside and had dirt roads and everyone traveled along small, winding dirt paths.
All the small, colorful buildings were dusty and run down.
Everyone in this town wore colorful cotton dresses and bright shirts and pants.
Everyone looked so content.
And for some odd reason all the unfamiliar, oddly happy people were traveling up to the top of the hill.
I knew that I was looking for someone,
But I don't remember who it was.
In my search for them I decided to follow the crowd up to the top of the hill,
Because I didn't want to be left alone there.
The longer we all traveled, the more of a hurry we were in.
Eventually we all started running until we finally reached the top.
Once we got there we looked back down at the town.
The view from the top was really pretty, but I wasn't nearly as blown away as everyone else.
And then I saw it.
Down in the town, there were a set of train tracks.
At one point in the tracks, two different paths intersected.
And there was a train on each of the paths, but there was no indication that one train would stop to avoid a collision.
As the trains got closer and closer together, I grew nervous.
However, I didn't know anyone in this town, so I couldn't express my concern to anybody.
And that was how it went.
We all watched as the trains crashed into each other at full speed.
We watched the explosion, we watched one train break the other in half.
We watched as people ran from the disaster.
We heard the screams of families on the trains.
We saw the blood and smashed iron.
I felt as if there was a golf ball in my throat, keeping me from screaming,
Because if you've ever tried screaming in your sleep, you'd know that it doesn't work.
I wanted to scream at everyone for watching.
However, I had watched the whole ordeal, too,
So who was I to yell at them?
In all my fear I decided to look back at the crowd I am standing with to see if they were scared, too.
But not a soul looked upset.
Their expressions were all a combination of love and adoration.
It was as if they had been waiting for this to come,
And it finally had, and they were happy to see it,
With their hands clasped together next to their faces,
And their heads resting on each others shoulders.
They obviously thought it was the most beautiful and profound thing they had ever seen.
They looked proud.
It was as if the entire crash was some scheduled event for their own amusement.
And I figured out right there that that was why they loved their town.
Because it was so broken. Because horrible things happened there.
We had just witnessed something terrible, and the people of this town had loved every second of it.
I finally took my eyes off of them and looked back to the disaster.
Time fast forwarded then,
And I watched as the trains were quickly hauled out,
The people shuffled out and the ambulances drove away at an almost funny speed,
As if it were a cartoon and nothing bad had actually happened.
When I finally looked up it was night and I was alone.
Everyone had probably already gone back to their small, run-down bedrooms and were sleeping,
Waiting for the next plane crash, earthquake, or lightning storm to come and tear the town apart to remind them why they loved it there.
They loved it because it was broken. It was, literally, a trainwreck.
I feel like this dream straightened out a lot of what I've been thinking lately:
Basically,
You can't love something just because it's broken.
You should love it for the way it handles being broken,
Because if you don't then you might as well be lovingly staring at a disaster.
I remember that I wound up by myself in a small, dusty town.
In the dream, I had heard a lot about this small town,
But it was all about how amazing and fantastic and wonderful it was.
There was something that absolutely everyone loved dearly about it.
But I couldn't figure out what it was,
In the dream I just felt sad and was confused as to why where I was was so beautiful.
The town was placed on a hillside and had dirt roads and everyone traveled along small, winding dirt paths.
All the small, colorful buildings were dusty and run down.
Everyone in this town wore colorful cotton dresses and bright shirts and pants.
Everyone looked so content.
And for some odd reason all the unfamiliar, oddly happy people were traveling up to the top of the hill.
I knew that I was looking for someone,
But I don't remember who it was.
In my search for them I decided to follow the crowd up to the top of the hill,
Because I didn't want to be left alone there.
The longer we all traveled, the more of a hurry we were in.
Eventually we all started running until we finally reached the top.
Once we got there we looked back down at the town.
The view from the top was really pretty, but I wasn't nearly as blown away as everyone else.
And then I saw it.
Down in the town, there were a set of train tracks.
At one point in the tracks, two different paths intersected.
And there was a train on each of the paths, but there was no indication that one train would stop to avoid a collision.
As the trains got closer and closer together, I grew nervous.
However, I didn't know anyone in this town, so I couldn't express my concern to anybody.
And that was how it went.
We all watched as the trains crashed into each other at full speed.
We watched the explosion, we watched one train break the other in half.
We watched as people ran from the disaster.
We heard the screams of families on the trains.
We saw the blood and smashed iron.
I felt as if there was a golf ball in my throat, keeping me from screaming,
Because if you've ever tried screaming in your sleep, you'd know that it doesn't work.
I wanted to scream at everyone for watching.
However, I had watched the whole ordeal, too,
So who was I to yell at them?
In all my fear I decided to look back at the crowd I am standing with to see if they were scared, too.
But not a soul looked upset.
Their expressions were all a combination of love and adoration.
It was as if they had been waiting for this to come,
And it finally had, and they were happy to see it,
With their hands clasped together next to their faces,
And their heads resting on each others shoulders.
They obviously thought it was the most beautiful and profound thing they had ever seen.
They looked proud.
It was as if the entire crash was some scheduled event for their own amusement.
And I figured out right there that that was why they loved their town.
Because it was so broken. Because horrible things happened there.
We had just witnessed something terrible, and the people of this town had loved every second of it.
I finally took my eyes off of them and looked back to the disaster.
Time fast forwarded then,
And I watched as the trains were quickly hauled out,
The people shuffled out and the ambulances drove away at an almost funny speed,
As if it were a cartoon and nothing bad had actually happened.
When I finally looked up it was night and I was alone.
Everyone had probably already gone back to their small, run-down bedrooms and were sleeping,
Waiting for the next plane crash, earthquake, or lightning storm to come and tear the town apart to remind them why they loved it there.
They loved it because it was broken. It was, literally, a trainwreck.
I feel like this dream straightened out a lot of what I've been thinking lately:
Basically,
You can't love something just because it's broken.
You should love it for the way it handles being broken,
Because if you don't then you might as well be lovingly staring at a disaster.