[Last night/early morning . . . I had THE most vivid and detailed and real-time, "lucid" dream I have ever had. And that's saying something! I've had a lot, but I've only just started mentioning these "new kinds" of dreams as opposed to the long trail of them I've had since a child; because since a few years ago, these dreams lately, as I've mentioned here before, are of a wholly different kind of style and nature. Well, I've never been a fan of or interested in peoples' dreams in general, because there is so much room for self-serving nonsense and irrelevancy. I'm still not sure what to make of it, other than, I know it is unlike any I have experienced before, this particular dream, such that I took the time, about 3am to get out of bed and hurry and write down some notes while I could recall it. I have some theories re this new kind of dream experience, but for now, I'll say they are just theories . . . nevertheless, these latest "lucid"-style dream experience is so new and unusual, that I feel it worth sharing here. And without any analysis at this time I am just going to quick relate it in objective observant terms.]
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"It seemed I was out of town, job done, and needed to get back home. Roughly, I was about a state away--what would normally, in other times, would be a 14-hour car drive, going south into the next state (as if working ie., in mid-Utah and was trying to get to mid Arizona, in terms of a geographical conception of the commute.)
I had a sort of small "portable" motor bike type thing...like a "mini-bike/moped"--not big enough to make the full ride, small enough to carry on a train or bus along my way. And so, it turned out, me and a couple other fellow familiar workers caught a designated, train that was part of a sort of community/public ride-sharing transportation system, and there were a couple of others, also boarding the train, also, worker-type dudes headed somewhere back home after a job or business of a some kind was over.
The train was dirty, oldish--not a passenger train of any kind, solid and functional, but more of a generic day-today supply train carrying various things, products, BUT also would allow a few passengers included to take the ride (like in the old days--and, well, maybe even more nowadays!... when poor or frugal or spy people took rides on freight ships/trains, for a cheap price without any much luxury appurtenances, to say the least. We were scruffy, tired, needed a change of clothes, each just plenty ready to get back to our unique homeward destinations; sitting on hard old wood benches, tired heads leaning, drowsing against the clanking, hard trainride-car walls. . . . [Well, and as I started getting slightly uncomfortable, I found myself floating outside, leery, and so, peering into the greasy old windows of the front main engine/locomotive compartment of the train, as it we were cruising along the tracks, and I saw about 3-4 dudes, in grey/blue grubby, ruddy "department" uniforms, sitting on their bench/chairs, in a work-a-day somnambulistic glaze . . . just doing their job, half asleep, just wanting to get the shift over and get to their off-work destination. They weren't at all concerned, because, as gritty as the system was, in general, things were automated, scheduled, and they expected the next shift workers would take over. . . .]
[As noted, we were headed south, but, as we rolled along, I felt "something" was not quite right, and then remembering, impressed that I had about a day or so of transportation time, hopefully, to get back home, to my wife and family. The expectations was there were "Uber"-type characters who would and were suppose to show up to carry on the next phase of the transportation--either another train switch, or perhaps a bus, or a car.....]
Anyway, we finally came to the next scheduled stop, and we were directed to un-board and wait for the soon to arrive relieving transport. . . . But it was soon evident some kind of a screwup had happened--the next drivers/transporters were not showing up on time, nowhere to be found. We were stranded now, at night, tired, and told to wait until "they" could sort it out. Whoever was suppose to show up and take us along the next stretch of the route had missed their call. There was a sense that it was possibly, stereotypical "millennial"-type "stoners", lackadaisical "government hires" . . . and that it might actually be many hours or more, or never, until THEY or someone else conscripted might show up to carry us on our way, according to schedule.
So, myself and the couple other fellows I was loosely travelling with--waited, shuffled about on the platform waiting for an hour or so, in that dark, damp night . . . milling about that empty little station post for a while, until it became apparent, at least to me, that nobody was coming anytime soon or ever, and definitely not soon enough for the time-frame I was expected to fulfill to get back home in time.
I decided to grab that little motor bike I had been packing along; and the other couple guys followed, and we trudged across the tracks to a nearby ramshackle, but at least, dimly lit and somewhat inviting and lively outpost.
It appeared as an old-mill style or once historic miner-town wood-framed establishment/hotel (built circa late 1800s it seemed.) In that late dark night, I could smell the sense that it had been there for a long time, one of the various old weather-worn side-station hostels along the trail-line, with many a now-weary tale to tell.
Me and the other couple of fellows straggling, entered the place, resigned that we must wait until the "next ride" finally came along the tracks or road so that we could eventually continue on our journey.
There were people there--sort-of creepy and twisted, degenerate locals and some other random earlier travelers who had perhaps just decided to hang out there for a while, finding themselves increasingly comfortable and lazy at that particular outpost.
It was a dilapidated old affair, damp, with lurking, molting spooky rooms available or occupied on the upper dreary floors; but on the main level there was a funky, trinketry gift shop, run by one a 30-year old white-trashy, over exuberant blond (part of the family-run operation) and a side sitting room/library with bookshelves containing the standard LDS book collection, and so, not surprised, I realized this was an old Mormon family-run establishment. The elder grandpa and grandma couple, owners were there, overseeing things, in another adjoining "sitting room"/parlor, sitting in comfy old chairs and mindlessly, wistfully, casually recalling and sharing local town legends, history and family with some of the wayfarers who were hanging about.
I went to the gift shop, trying to kill time, waiting for the next transport (train, bus, car, whatever) but also slightly worried about and conscious of my little motor bike I had parked in the entry/garage area below where several other travelers and occupants were just lolling about, jawing, munching cheap snacks and drinking and smoking in the dark recess, ground level, of that area near the local frontage dirtroad. The train tracks just beyond that and I noticed a river or wide canal just further beyond some field and marshy land, to the west, about 200 yards distance. . . .
[Next, in part 2, is where things got weird and startling and intense. A certain kind of military operation suddenly invaded the scene and it went from there in such detailed and nuanced ways . . . that when I happened to "wake up", I ran downstairs in my boxers, 3am, determined to quick write down some notes of this dream--THE most lucid and detailed and unusual dream I have ever had; such that I felt it important to get into words, before it left my memory. I don't know if any or what significance it might have, but it was so unique . . . for what it's worth, if anything, I felt compelled to document/share it. And so I will continue to sort through my hastily, determined early morning notes to recall and write it here. Well, and the Chinese invasion element was particularly detailed and realistically portrayed, I'll just foreshadow here now. . . . ]"
