A dream of a bus, trains and a warehouse
I was on a westbound 135. The bus turned right onto some sidestreet in the vicinity of Nanaimo; this was a part of the standard schedule, and unremarkable. Right again and then again saw us going South. Soon, I was the only person left on the bus. We pulled into a decline in the North end of Vancouver that hid the area from the public view, one near to a small vale that I saw in a previous dream. While the vale was rolling, this area was more industrial. The bus slid onto a track, one of several girdling a warehouse.
Rounding the side of it, we slowed down as a menacing iron train, all angles and bumps, came at us on a nearby track from the other direction. Another screached by closer still, and as we tried to make a corner at the same time, it bumped and jostled the bus as we slipped past each-other. We pulled right around the side of the warehouse, then right again to see a great open wall, which another right turn took us inside.
The bus stopped on the track. We we the only vehicle there. Then the bus lifted away in pieces: the top and walls were storen away by some automatic and largely unseen dissasembly rig, leaving me alone on a metal stool in a warehouse full of empty tracks that too faded leaving only me and a rust-red stool.
I sat there a moment and stood, and realized that I was dreaming and decided to wake up. When I did so, I stood and saw that it was morning, my pants were torn and there was a bloody gash on my right leg. Strange: it must have been from the dream.
Then I woke up a second time. It was night and I lay there intact. Very strange.