In the dream, I’m a small girl. There’s a train, a fancy public transit train with a snub nose, bright kindergarten colors on the inside. I’m fidgety in the plastic chair. Two cars, I think? There’s a lot of back and forth running around in there. It reminds me of some dream aircraft I’ve been on. Somehow I escape, a momentary transit stop where I take the opportunity.
The next place I’m at is near a wide swath of lakeside coastline, smooth lawns hosting families picnicking out of wood-clad automobiles in the distance. The lake borders a hill and is in a well-to-do neighborhood. I climb a building that’s built into a hillside, industrial concrete stairs and iron grates. Peering through dusty windows, I see an old diner covered in a thick layer of brown dust. There’s something of it that evokes a streamlined diesel locomotive, connecting it to the previous scene.