Thursday, May 15, 2008

Bridges and Trains


In my dream last night I took a trip. I was on a very luxurious train, something of a cross between a French TGV and one of the trains in the latest James Bond movie. There was nothing American about this train, but I was traveling to Arizona. I knew I wasn't alone but I couldn't find my traveling companions, even as I wandered back and forth along the train searching for a familiar face.

When we arrived in Arizona we were in a giant city in the desert. A suspension bridge the same color as the Golden Gate connected the train station from the city; beneath it was an enormous, bright blue body of water. As we crossed the bridge on foot, it felt as though we were walking downhill. I remarked to someone near me on the activity in the water. Giant space-age helicopters were showboating, doing pirouettes and figure eights above the water before crashing in and then rising again. The man next to me said that this was a great attraction of the city, and I should definitely try it. I watched one of the helicopters crash and said it wasn't for me.

When I got to the end of the bridge I realized I had forgotten something on the train and was ordered back. I turned around to walk back across the bridge and found it almost impossible. There was a howling wind pushing against me, and the bridge no longer had rails, only duct tape to hang on to. I pulled myself along, progressing inch by inch, incredibly slowly, getting lower and lower until I was crawling along the floor of the bridge. The surface had turned from dry cement into a wet mixture of concrete and dirt, and I put my face in it for a minute to cool off. I could see the train up ahead but I was terrified I would never get there.

"Is it always this windy?" I shouted to someone passing by me.

"No, it's just while that bridge is being built," the man replied, pointing across the water to a giant construction site on the other side of the pirouetting helicopters.

"When will the bridge be ready?" I asked, desperate.

"In a few months," I was told. I woke up before I got back to the train.

1 comment:

RB said...

I think it is profound. It is telling that this is a hard period in your life, but it will all be well soon. Poetic even in sleep...