Last Night

I dreamt there was a train I needed to catch. I was meeting Georgia on it, like when I travelled from Agra to Delhi, but this time, it was my Dad warning me how imperative it was I catch it; it was the last train of the night.



I left the platform to get chips, from a neon lit multiplex takeaway that seemed to be in a Northern English city, although it was the main shopping road in Bangalore. I used my card to pay but took it out of the machine too soon in my rush, and so fiddled with cash. The woman behind the till was kindly, fat and slow, with bleach blonde scraggly hair and a cratered moon face.

When I returned to the station, the train was there. Most of thee carriages were full, and there were big crowds coming off - so I waited. They dispersed and I shuffled around trying to identify my carriage from the outside. Then the porters were shouting and the train started to move but as I willed my legs to obey their call of "All aboard" they were glued to the floor. It accelerated and I removed my white trainers which are a bit too small and started to run. I thought I'd make it to a door but I couldn't keep up.

I met my Dad and Grandad later; they'd been watching from the waiting room unbeknownst to me. They said I'd missed it on purpose, that they'd seen me check my wristwatch as the train left, and were angry at my nonchalance.



(A tribute to Shaun Love, who always writes up his dreams)