I was outdoors, perhaps at a farm, and found myself talking to boys from high school. They had been bullies, but because this was a reunion I hoped they had grown up and would not torment me. I could tell by their looks and attitudes, though, that they had not. For an unknown reason, I was compelled not to get away from them.
I mentioned glasses, but realized that the pair I was wearing didn’t match the ones I was describing. I noticed that “Eddie’s” were Silhouettes like the pair I was describing, only larger. To find common ground (or a target?), I mentioned that my dad would never believe that such small lenses could work, and he said that his father would agree. I felt uneasy, waiting for him and the others to do something to me.
A black, roiling cloud filled the horizon. I thought that it must be a tornado, but then I saw that the source was a steam engine. It appeared to be intact, but there was so much smoke that I thought the apocalypse must be nigh. The engine pulled forward as though to move the danger away. It was hauling hundreds of boats of all sizes, styles, and colors. Hundreds of people waved and cheered among the boats like nothing was amiss, then I saw the clowns among them. Now there was no trace of the explosion and fire from the engine ahead.
I remembered my own trip coming up in a few weeks and thought, “Surely Amtrak won’t use a steam engine,” mentally picturing a streamlined diesel engine. Remembering the uncanniness of the smoke, I was afraid.