pictures

Well, it is twelve o'clock here where I am. I think I may be right, someone a long time ago started a dream & here we are all living the rest of it out . . . I think I would like to write of the time that I could frame, like in a picture. I think I will never forget it. Although, I wonder if I can write about it. I would imagine that no one really reads this blog, let's see . . . how can I tell this story? . . .

it was twelve o'clock midnight, the trains had all been well past their bedtimes, the trainstation was filled with the on set of passengers who had stepped off their latest arrivals. I was busy charting a map for my next journey. It was just a dream that I was living, and the way it all played out was written in a code yet my choice of directions would cause my travels to be set upon different paths. And I sat there a moment, comtemplating my journeys, my future and my past. It had been a long stop from the last town that I traveled from, I had a nice car all to myself. The windows where large and I could see the full picture of the mountains as a sceene which was lit up in a nightly glow - they were almost epic, the way they passed by my window, with the quiet night, and the sleepy cars, it was like a sceen out of a novel, yet even more real. I found that I could not sleep. So, I decided to take a walk about the train. They had a dining car three cars down. I wondered what they might be serving too. Jiggling coffee? waving dinner rolls? stationary noodles alfredo, because the noodles might've been somewhat sticky, thereby sticking to the plate which they were served on, unless they had more white sauce and then they would be more like sliding noodles alfredo, lol. Of course they did have coffee in a cup with a top on it. Mostly it was the same, non-existant people waving left and right from the trains onward travel. There was a table about 3 o'clock to my east which was full of only about four or five people. One of them I seemed oddly to recognize. It's interesting the people you will meet and run into again, I wonder does that happen in dreams? Since it was so uneventful, I decided to go back to my car, but I would order a sandwich or something before I did. The waiter came around again, I ordered whatever they had available and then waited for my order to arrive. I suppose there are some things in this life that you can't say or express, or maybe so much in words. If I were a mirror, I think express it in the very same expression. And, then I guess mirrors are something to capture, like a picture in time. The waiter greeted me a farewell for the night and I left the simple stationary tables in their travel to the easiness of a giant picture window which I will probably never forget for 100 centuries, as if like a fairy tale moving motion picture, sometimes replaying in my dreams.