me time time tim
...and I wake up in a darkened room on an upholstered bench. My clothes still feel warm and damp either from sweat or swamps. The room around me vibrates and rumbles with velocity. What would be a roar from the outside is a carpeted hum on the inside. This is another dream.
"A train," I say to no one. Odd, I never speak out loud to myself.
I hear a stirring in the seats across from me. I faintly see a bundle of blankets shift around toward me. "It's the X," she says, her face unearthed from the heavy blanket. Her voice is familiar, warm and sleepy.
"I thought I was talking to myself," I admitted in embarrassment. Exhaustion leads to unfamiliar habits, as if I've adopted the life-long traits of someone else. Maybe because we're all different people when we dream.
"I can go back to sleep, then," she says.
"No, I mean..." I'm not sure what I mean, nor do I apologize.
There's a pause that belies a precipice I didn't know existed. Had I just blown her patience? Had I sounded like a crazy person? Who in the hell is she anyway, and also, how many lines of rails are there to warrant the designation of X? I notice we're in a private car but never pulled down the bed. She must be a familiar stranger.
"We should be pretty far north already," she says toward the ceiling of the car.
I act like I still know what's happening, where we're going, and whether or not I'm supposed to know her, but I have no idea about anything. Sometimes it's best to just let the world tell you where you are rather than revealing your ignorance.
She takes a deep breath and sits up. As she stretches her hands toward her ankles, the bright fabric of her dress spills out from under the blanket. In the dim light from the open window, the moon turns the yellow dress silver. From her bent position she looks at me and asks, "Want to go for a walk?"
"Yes."
The corridors are tougher to navigate than I expected. Maybe I slept incorrectly and a crick in my neck is making me dizzy. Ahead of me, the tall woman puts her hands on the walls for support. So, it's not just me. We pass other private rooms that are all shuttered or empty. We see no other people. Maybe we're the only ones awake. Opening the doors between cars unleashes the deafening roar from the outside. She seems to know the way to wherever we're going. In fact, she's been using an electronic key at each threshold. I've been counting the doors and memorizing the route just in case I need to return on my own, or to avoid where I had just been.
One of the doors is scratched and cracked as if a large animal had attempted to escape by ramming the glass. I have little time to think about it as the damaged door opens to a blank car. By that, I mean that there's nothing in the car. There's a ceiling, a floor covered in wood, and structural posts in the middle, but no walls, no railings, nothing to protect anyone from falling off. She steps toward the edge.
"It's crazy, isn't it?"
I keep my eye on her, not knowing if she might jump in an act of poetic suicide, or if she might push me out. I don't know how much space to give her. I need to be close enough to grab her if she jumps but far enough away to protect myself and push her away. If she turns to me and says, Here comes the fall, I still won't know who will die.
As I monitor her stance and how she keeps me in her peripheral vision, I can tell that she's thinking the same thing as me.
"Oh, god," she says, "you're not going to push me off, are you?"
I tell her, "You brought me here, of all the people to throw me off, it's you."
She thinks about it for less than a second, "There were cameras on the way here."
"I don't get it."
"They'll know you were with me."
"That makes it all the more convenient for you to throw me off. You can say I was forcing myself on you."
We both sit down at the same time. The wooden planks on the floor are slick and the constant vibration bounces us away from whichever direction the train is turning. She brought her blanket from the private car and now drapes it around her shoulders. Instead of questioning each other's sanity, we wonder about the sanity of the engineers who made this ostensible death trap of a train car. And what kind of animal can shatter a door made of metal and glass? Did it leap onto the car while the train was moving? That much force could come from a reckless lioness. Or from the swift kick of a horse. Neither of these scenarios make sense. There must be another type of beast I have yet to consider.
I look out on the moving landscape for any signs of fast-moving predators. There are mountains covered in silver from the moon. On the side of one of them, a lake trickles water down the side, creating the illusion of a long knife or a short sword, glowing. There are blurry bursts of trees moving past the lip of the car.
"What are you thinking," she asks.
I'm thinking it's pretty late and I don't know if the night is just beginning to coalesce into a flurry of stars, or if the night is just about to collapse in the oppressive heat of the sun. What we do depends on the time. I look at my watch and promptly wake up...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interpol - Pioneer To The Falls
[Listen on youtube]
Interpol - Mind Over Time
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
Vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
The soul can wait
Well, it is still pretty
What with all these leaves
We'll be fine
We'll be fine
But if it's still pretty
What with all these leaves
We'll be fine, oh
And supervise
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
Then you vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today
I know you try
You try straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
Girl, I know you try
You fly straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
But here comes the fall
So much for make believe, I'm not sold
So much of dream's deceit, I'm not prepared to know
Your heart makes me feel
Your heart makes me bold
For always and ever, I'll never let go
Always concealed
Safe and inside, alive
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
In a passion it broke, I pull the black from the gray
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A train," I say to no one. Odd, I never speak out loud to myself.
I hear a stirring in the seats across from me. I faintly see a bundle of blankets shift around toward me. "It's the X," she says, her face unearthed from the heavy blanket. Her voice is familiar, warm and sleepy.
"I thought I was talking to myself," I admitted in embarrassment. Exhaustion leads to unfamiliar habits, as if I've adopted the life-long traits of someone else. Maybe because we're all different people when we dream.
"I can go back to sleep, then," she says.
"No, I mean..." I'm not sure what I mean, nor do I apologize.
There's a pause that belies a precipice I didn't know existed. Had I just blown her patience? Had I sounded like a crazy person? Who in the hell is she anyway, and also, how many lines of rails are there to warrant the designation of X? I notice we're in a private car but never pulled down the bed. She must be a familiar stranger.
"We should be pretty far north already," she says toward the ceiling of the car.
I act like I still know what's happening, where we're going, and whether or not I'm supposed to know her, but I have no idea about anything. Sometimes it's best to just let the world tell you where you are rather than revealing your ignorance.
She takes a deep breath and sits up. As she stretches her hands toward her ankles, the bright fabric of her dress spills out from under the blanket. In the dim light from the open window, the moon turns the yellow dress silver. From her bent position she looks at me and asks, "Want to go for a walk?"
"Yes."
The corridors are tougher to navigate than I expected. Maybe I slept incorrectly and a crick in my neck is making me dizzy. Ahead of me, the tall woman puts her hands on the walls for support. So, it's not just me. We pass other private rooms that are all shuttered or empty. We see no other people. Maybe we're the only ones awake. Opening the doors between cars unleashes the deafening roar from the outside. She seems to know the way to wherever we're going. In fact, she's been using an electronic key at each threshold. I've been counting the doors and memorizing the route just in case I need to return on my own, or to avoid where I had just been.
One of the doors is scratched and cracked as if a large animal had attempted to escape by ramming the glass. I have little time to think about it as the damaged door opens to a blank car. By that, I mean that there's nothing in the car. There's a ceiling, a floor covered in wood, and structural posts in the middle, but no walls, no railings, nothing to protect anyone from falling off. She steps toward the edge.
"It's crazy, isn't it?"
I keep my eye on her, not knowing if she might jump in an act of poetic suicide, or if she might push me out. I don't know how much space to give her. I need to be close enough to grab her if she jumps but far enough away to protect myself and push her away. If she turns to me and says, Here comes the fall, I still won't know who will die.
As I monitor her stance and how she keeps me in her peripheral vision, I can tell that she's thinking the same thing as me.
"Oh, god," she says, "you're not going to push me off, are you?"
I tell her, "You brought me here, of all the people to throw me off, it's you."
She thinks about it for less than a second, "There were cameras on the way here."
"I don't get it."
"They'll know you were with me."
"That makes it all the more convenient for you to throw me off. You can say I was forcing myself on you."
We both sit down at the same time. The wooden planks on the floor are slick and the constant vibration bounces us away from whichever direction the train is turning. She brought her blanket from the private car and now drapes it around her shoulders. Instead of questioning each other's sanity, we wonder about the sanity of the engineers who made this ostensible death trap of a train car. And what kind of animal can shatter a door made of metal and glass? Did it leap onto the car while the train was moving? That much force could come from a reckless lioness. Or from the swift kick of a horse. Neither of these scenarios make sense. There must be another type of beast I have yet to consider.
I look out on the moving landscape for any signs of fast-moving predators. There are mountains covered in silver from the moon. On the side of one of them, a lake trickles water down the side, creating the illusion of a long knife or a short sword, glowing. There are blurry bursts of trees moving past the lip of the car.
"What are you thinking," she asks.
I'm thinking it's pretty late and I don't know if the night is just beginning to coalesce into a flurry of stars, or if the night is just about to collapse in the oppressive heat of the sun. What we do depends on the time. I look at my watch and promptly wake up...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Interpol - Pioneer To The Falls
[Listen on youtube]
Interpol - Mind Over Time
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
Vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
The soul can wait
Well, it is still pretty
What with all these leaves
We'll be fine
We'll be fine
But if it's still pretty
What with all these leaves
We'll be fine, oh
And supervise
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
Then you vanish with no guile
And I will not pay
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today
I know you try
You try straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
Girl, I know you try
You fly straight into my heart
You fly straight into my heart
But here comes the fall
So much for make believe, I'm not sold
So much of dream's deceit, I'm not prepared to know
Your heart makes me feel
Your heart makes me bold
For always and ever, I'll never let go
Always concealed
Safe and inside, alive
Show me the dirt pile
And I will pray that the soul can take
Three stowaways
In a passion it broke, I pull the black from the gray
But the soul can wait
I felt you so much today
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~