I was walking along what looked like a stony ledge near water, looking for a place to shower, but I remembered I didn’t have a towel. I mentioned this to someone, but realized I had a towel on my hair.

Elsewhere, we saw a train pass through a surrounding car that was set up like a sitting room and had a fireplace we could see as though the side were partially open. I told the other person the engineer could stop there (like a docking station) for a bit of rest and comfort, but it occurred to me (in my mind) that the engine would block the tracks, so how would that work? I didn’t wonder how the engineer got access to this tunnel-like contrivance or any of the dozen other impracticalities.

A train came along, an engine with a couple of cars, going in the other direction. It was jumping the tracks repeatedly, looking like bucking bronco. The effect was horrifying. I said, “Why doesn’t he slow down?” but the train didn’t seem to be going fast. I wondered how long it would keep landing perfectly on the tracks as it bucked high off them and continued moving forward. I told the person with me that I lived with train tracks behind my home, that they curved around my brother’s ash tree and ran behind the trailer (a recurring theme).

We entered the respite tunnel and found it elegant and comfortable. There were all kinds of fancy furniture for which I didn’t have names, although I speculated. I think we contemplated ordering tea and cookies or something but didn’t know how it all worked, especially since no one else seemed to be there, at least that we could see. We sensed something.