train station woes

 I had a dream last night. I was in a train station. There were several platforms, empty, yet I sensed the presence of others. I just couldn’t see them. The air was cold, the kind of cold that pierces your nostrils as you breathe in. Dusk had settled on the station and left the sky a hazy livid colour with a stripe of orange on the horizon that was slowly departing.

I was hyper-aware of the sounds surrounding me. The electricity sparking against the tracks, a tap left running in the public toilets on the platform, and crows watching me diligently, occasionally breaking their silence to release a caw. Whilst a crow’s cry usually stings to hear, in this dream, its voice harmonized with the other sounds.

I felt calm. At ease.

I didn’t see the man approach. It was a sudden grasp around my neck and mouth. I didn’t even have time to breathe out. When he chooses, his movements are gentle. In that station of running taps, crows, and electrified tracks, he was silent.

I tried digging my heels into the concrete as I desperately writhed and contorted my shoulders, but it made no difference, his strength was unmatched. I reached back, trying to grab onto something, an eye perhaps? But he swiftly wrapped his arms around me, holding mine down.

I had always enjoyed the feeling of my man reaching behind me, wrapping me in his arms, and burrowing his face into my neck. He has a solid hold of me, but it provides warm security. Not like the threat the man in my dream gives.

I still couldn’t see his face as he dragged me down the platform. I gave up fighting at that point. It was of no use.

He took me to a wooden hut at the end. A man greeted him. He looked like a train conductor with one of those silly pompous hats that are given to make them feel significant. He didn’t make eye contact with me, and a false delight was portrayed on his face as he opened the door for us and I was towed through. He left the door open but kept his back towards us.

I was able to scream now. The man’s hand left my mouth and used it to hold me down on the floor instead. Gripped my neck and pushed down enough to keep me there but allowed me to shriek as much as I pleased. I was now able to get a good look at his face. I didn’t recognize him from my daily reality or my past. He had cropped, straw-like hair, little squinty eyes, and an upturned piggy nose. He was a large man. Chubby and pale. As he forced himself upon me those scrawny eyes glazed over and bulged out their sockets. The pupils grew and a black mass spread itself across the whites of his eyes. A thick vein protruded out of his forehead and pulsed in rhythm with his movements.

When he finished, he released me, and I ran. I ran past the conductor who waited at the door and out onto the platform. This time the station wasn’t empty. It was filled with the bustle of rush hour. The people made eye contact with me, but it was fleeting. They went back to gormlessly gazing in front of them with seemingly little sense of direction.