Last night I dreamed I was on a night train.

It was an old train with compartments that seat six on deep leather bench seats; three facing three. I was walking down the passage, the silver, white moon flickering shapes through the windows on my left, the darkened compartment doors passing on my right. I opened a door and stared into darkness. I stretched my arms out in front. I decided to sit in the seat closest on my right, but it was so dark I couldn’t make out if someone was sitting there. I felt entitled to this seat. I think I felt I had given over the “better seats” to others in my past. I turned and lowered my posterior towards the spring seat. The seat was so deep it felt like I was descending for an eternity. I did not feel anyone seated behind me, which was good, but then just as my backside was about to touch leather I felt the thin wispiness of another soul.

The body had a form that was soft and thin. It rolled out of my way and moved along two seats away from me. I stammered an apology about not being able to see. I sat in my seat. Time and distance passed. Still feeling guilty about my imposition I reached across with my right arm to touch my fellow passenger, with kindness, to make up. My right arm was grabbed with force and then a dark, (now) heavy body crossed mine and grabbed my left. The body pulled itself over me trying to roll me out of my seat, cloaking and suffocating me at the same time. I felt a great weight pressing on me. An aggressive force. I got angry. I fought. No!  The force subsided.

I never remember fighting back in dreams.


I wake early. Lots on my mind so “tap tap” at the keyboard. Autumn in Melbourne. A time of dying.


It’s after lunch now. I feel loose. Unwound. Almost like I don’t care; that I won’t think too hard before acting; Riding a line just this side of recklessness.

I’ve just been at the gym. I didn’t care about form or injury or puking or passing out. I felt powerful.

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