Dreams are Illustrations from The Book your Soul is Writing about You

I wasn't really sure where I was going exactly, but I had a general sense of the direction I wanted to go. I went up stairs in to a train station, but I should have walked down the hill to the road. I'd been walking around for a long time. A man said something to me, I think he was a teacher or authoritative figure of some sort. It seemed he had a go at me for some reason but I can't remember what he said, except that I snapped. He just didn't get it and he didn't know me. I was wandering, looking for something desperately. Maybe it was something to help my brother. Maybe I was just looking for answers. Either way, I searched aimlessly, knowing that I wouldn't find it. Especially now that I was lost. I felt resigned and defeated. Hopeless. A train was pulled into the station, so I got on it. But when it started, it ended up going in the opposite direction to where I wanted to go. I thought I should probably get off at the next station, then wait for a train in the other direction, so I would be going the right way. I moved down the front of the carriage, closer to the driver. I realised then that the train wasn't on any tracks, in fact it seemed more like a bus - the driver was driving it on roads, through the city. 

He was actually steering it. When we stopped, I told him of my plans and asked him how long it would be until another train came along. I had no idea where I was, so I wasn't relishing the thought that I might have to wait for hours for the next train in the other direction. But he didn't answer me, and I moved to get off, but there were other seats hemming me in, there weren't any aisles. Then I looked around and was stunned and panicked when I realised the train also didn't have any doors or exits. Just long, wide, sealed glass windows and walls. I called out to the driver: "How do I get off?". He seemed to know I wanted to but was still waiting. He told me that I had to stay in my seat, that a mechanical mechanism of some sort would arrive to bodily lift the entire seat out of the train to exit me on to the road. I could only wait, I was trapped after all. It appeared everyone knew this was how the new trains worked, and I felt naive, inexperienced, freaked out. So I waited. And I woke up. Those who have compared our life to a dream were right. We sleeping wake, and waking sleep. Michel de Montaigne, Essays, 1580.

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