I Can’t Take That Train Home Either.

In my dream…

I don’t know what city I’m in, but I know that I have overstayed my welcome. I’m out of money, out of time. It is time for me to go home, and I need to hurry. 

I run outside into a city I’ve never seen. And like in many of my dreams, I realize that I’m on a college campus.

I want to find the Metro – the D.C. area subway – but I have no idea where there might be a Metro station. I keep running and looking, but there is nothing to see. There are no signs, and no helpful strangers. The city is shaded gray and black, and I am looking for a big, red “M” for “Metro.”

I hear a train, so I run to a platform. It is an Amtrak train, but Amtrak would take me too far away. In spite of my confusion, I think I am closer to home than that. Then I see a Metro train pulling into the station.

I decide to get on. I walk up to it as the doors open, and start to step on – then I realize that I don’t know which direction it is going. I read some signs, but don’t recognize any of the stops. And I don’t know which way is home. I take a step back, off the train.

Another train pulls up. It is the tiny, open-air, ride-on train from a farm where we vacationed with our kids a few years ago. The train is so small that only elementary-school-aged kids will fit in the seats.

I can’t take that train home either.

I suddenly realize I’m at the wrong platform, maybe the wrong station altogether. It is late, getting dark, and I’m still in some unfamiliar college town. I’m even more lost than I was before. So I start running, hoping to get to the right train before it gets dark, but I am running aimlessly with no hope of finding what I need.

Then my alarm goes off, and I wake up worried. I think I still need to find my way home. But I am home, in my bed, safe and sound.

And apparently, I am subconsciously very, very lost.

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